


Ashen

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Architects, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Getting Together, Infidelity, Internal Conflict, M/M, No Happy Ending Fest, Sexual Content, Star-crossed, True Love, Unhappy Ending, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: Some life lessons come easily, some not so much.Some leave you bruised, aching, and crying for a love lost.They learn that the hard way.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 62
Kudos: 117
Collections: No Happy Ending Fest - 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** 226  
>  **Prompt:** Among all people that he could fall in love with, it needs not to be his brother-in-law.  
>  **Pairing/Main Character(s):** Jongin/Sehun  
>  **Side Characters(if any):** OCs, Seulgi  
>  **Word Count:** 28.8k  
>  **Warning(s)/Additional Tag(s):** Infidelity (of sorts)  
>  **Author's note:** Thank you OP for this prompt! Please note that I tweaked it slightly~ Hope this finds you well (a.k.a. breaks your heart like it did mine) ♡

The first time they meet, the skies have split open and rain is falling to the ground in sheets.

Inside, warm and dry, Sehun finds a quiet corner to hide in. Champagne threatens to slosh out of its flute, but Sehun keeps a tight grip around the stem and takes a couple of much-needed sips before a single drop has the chance to escape. 

This is his first formal dinner event since he started work at one of his father’s companies a couple of months ago. While it’s a prestigious charity event hosted by an equally prestigious conglomerate, this isn’t quite what a 21-year-old man had in mind for a Friday night. 

He’s required to be here for appearance’s sake – after all, what would people say if the CEO’s precious son was nowhere to be seen at his first formal appearance? For almost an entire hour since he first stepped foot into the grand ballroom, Sehun has been posing for photos with other members of the rich and famous. As soon as he saw a chance to escape, he took it, fleeing into the shadows where he stands now, watching as his older sister flits around the place like she was born to do this. 

He supposes she is. Both siblings are widely regarded as two of the most attractive individuals in the nation, but Oh Saehi has a certain charm and allure to her that Sehun can only wish to have. She takes to socialising like a bee to honey, drawing in both suitors and business deals alike; it came as no surprise when she was appointed the Head of Business Development, and no one on the Board objected in the slightest. 

Even as Sehun looks on, he sees men and women alike turning around to catch a glimpse of her when she walks by, the flowy fabric of her dress marking the path she’s taken. Each step she takes is confident, and it shows in the straightness of her spine and the light in her eyes. 

Growing up a member of the Oh family means that there are certain expectations placed upon you. The business empire that their great-grandparents have built has been passed down from generation to generation, and as per tradition Sehun’s father has prepared both of his children to take over since the first day of school. It’s non-negotiable, a clause in the contract that is their lineage. 

Sehun knows that his father takes great pride in what their family has accomplished and how they’ve built themselves up into success from obscurity. But Sehun doesn’t really see it that way. The prestige and wealth are both great things, yes, but what is the point if he can’t live his life the way he wants to? 

Taking another sip of his champagne, Sehun rests his head against the wall and turns his eyes towards the rest of the room. Two tables run down the length of the ballroom, displaying various rare and expensive items up for auction with 100% of the proceeds going straight to charity. Sehun doesn’t even have to look at the lists to know that his father’s (his, in due time) company will have raised millions by the end of the night. 

Everyone is decked out in jewellery and clothing worth tens of thousands – objectively pretty, but Sehun doesn’t care about any of that. His own suit was tailor-made for this singular event, something that Sehun only agreed to because he knows his father would disapprove of him using a previously worn suit. 

At least it’s comfortable, he thinks, a hand slipping into a pocket as he drains the flute. He takes another few minutes to himself before he pushes off the wall and starts towards the crowd. The night has just started, which means he has to steel himself and continue socialising for the next two or three hours. 

Sehun makes it a dozen steps before his gaze lands on someone strolling inside, the lines of his suit and the soft glow of light cutting a sharp figure. Recognition comes immediately, because anyone remotely connected to the Internet will know of Kim Jongin, the twenty-five year old supermodel and only son of a fashion designer that has taken the world by storm. It’s easy to recognise the way he walks, the graceful set of his shoulders, and how the contours of his face catch the light and shadows. The man’s a masterpiece and everyone, including Sehun, knows it.

Just as Sehun’s about to look away, Jongin catches his eye.

It’s the first time Sehun has ever felt pinned to a spot by someone’s gaze, those dark eyes heated with unreadable intent. Air only starts flowing back into his lungs when Jongin breaks their eye contact, but even as they head off in different directions, Sehun still feels the faint caress of electricity running down his arms. 

An hour later, when Sehun has had another 2 glasses of champagne and found refuge in one of the many indoor gardens that this place has to offer, he feels the same jolt of electricity again. 

Reflecting off the surface of the pond is Jongin’s approach, each casual stride punctuated by the water’s ripple. The model stops at the edge of the pond, just a few feet away from Sehun, and gazes across the water in silence.

The men stand there for a few minutes, one looking out at the various blooms around the pond while the other stares down at the lone fish swimming in lazy circles. Standing this close to Jongin, Sehun’s able to pick up on the fragrant notes of his cologne. He smells good, almost tantalizing. 

Jongin is the first to speak. 

“Out here because you like flowers or because you need a moment to yourself?”

Sehun looks over, eyes running down the line of Jongin’s frame before flicking back up to his face. There’s a soft, lazy smile playing along the seam of Jongin’s lips and Sehun wonders if the model finds something amusing or if he’s simply used to smiling, courtesy of his job. 

“The second. You?”

“Both, although I think I need more than just one moment.”

From out of the corner of his eye, Sehun sees movement. It turns out to be Jongin reaching into a pocket for cigarettes, the case and lighter both equally sleek and expensive. 

“You mind?”

Sehun shrugs. “Go ahead. Public space, after all.” He waits until Jongin lights up and takes a drag before saying, “But smoking is bad for you, you know.”

He gets a chuckle for his good intentions and Sehun watches smoke curl out from between Jongin’s plush lips. If his gaze lingers for a few extra seconds, no one else has to know. “Yeah, I know. Been trying to quit, but it’s a good stress reliever.”

They don’t get to spend much time discussing the plethora of reasons why Jongin should quit smoking, however, because Sehun’s phone pings with a message from his father.

Jongin doesn’t miss the sigh that escapes. 

“Not a fan of fancy dinners?”

“Fancy dinners aren’t the problem,” Sehun says, pocketing his phone after he fires off a quick reply. “It’s the presence of the media and the expectations placed upon me by people I’ve never even met. It’s needing to live up to my family’s legacy.”

The second those words leave his mouth, Sehun panics. He knows he has said too much, revealed too much of his internal thoughts to someone else. It’s dangerous to speak openly when you’re prolific – words can be twisted and many careers have been ruined by carelessly spoken words. Sehun has witnessed some firsthand.

“I, uh –”

“I understand,” Jongin interjects, as smooth as honey. “I feel the same.”

When Sehun raises an eyebrow in question, Jongin simply chuckles and lets out another stream of smoke. 

“Story for another time, perhaps. You should go, I’ve heard that your father can be quite…unforgiving in certain situations.”

So Sehun turns to leave, raising a couple of fingers in goodbye. Jongin returns the gesture, and the last thing Sehun sees of him is another tendril of smoke floating up towards the ceiling. 

  
It’s almost a whole year later when they next bump into each other. 

This time, the event is something more suited to Sehun’s taste. Music is already spilling out of the mansion’s heavy front doors, heavy and hot, when Sehun steps out of his car. He takes a moment to fix his outfit, smoothing out the few creases in his silk shirt before handing his keys to the hired valet.

Someone vaguely familiar greets him as soon as he steps inside, a cool hand wrapped around his arm, and Sehun lets her pull him in for a sticky kiss on the cheek before he slinks away. It’s crowded enough to feel like he’s just one of the masses, everyone too engrossed in each other’s flamboyant lives to pay him much attention. 

He’s just about done fixing himself a drink when he smells that scent again, a blend of sharpness and softness. 

“Never seen you here before,” Jongin says conversationally, materialising next to him before reaching across for a bottle of cognac. Sehun watches him pour out two fingers worth, the amber liquid filling in the gaps between ice cubes like molten gems. 

Then he looks up and sees Jongin’s gaze fixed on his face. 

“Never seen _you_ here before,” Sehun returns. 

Jongin laughs, teeth gleaming white in the dim lights. “Yeah, actually, I don’t come to these things often.” He sips at his drink, eyes bright and pinning Sehun to the spot. “Would you like to head up to the roof? I heard there’s a nice rooftop garden up there.”

“You must love nature,” Sehun quips, turning around and leading the way to the stairs in an unspoken acceptance of Jongin’s invitation. He can feel the man’s proximity every step of the way, oddly suffocating but in the best way possible, and it isn’t until they’re up on the roof does he manage to take in a full lungful of air. 

It’s blessedly quiet up here, the sky a sheet of bottomless black velvet speckled with diamonds. 

While Jongin walks up to the edge of the roof to drink in the sight of their city at night, Sehun hangs back to drink in the sight of him, modelesque (as he should be) and beautiful (as he is). 

Sehun still remembers the immediate moments after parting ways all those months ago. At the entrance, he’d looked back and caught sight of Jongin leaning against a tree, cigarette pinched between long fingers and hair skimming sharp cheekbones. 

His heart did a little skip then, and as Sehun watches him trail his fingertips down the petal of a flower, it does a little skip now.

It’s…interest at first sight, he supposes. There’s just something about the man that has Sehun want to know more, perhaps get under his skin just to see what makes him tick. It (doesn’t) help that he’s insanely attractive.

The city lights glint off the glass in Jongin’s hand and Sehun steps forward to join him. 

“Came across a copy of your latest Vogue cover the other day. Looked good.”

Jongin’s grin is clear, even in his peripheral vision. “Yeah? Did you buy it?”

Down below, the front door swings open and light spills out across the lawn, followed by voices and laughter. But Sehun ignores them in favour of taking a seat, feet hanging down by the side of the house and glass positioned by his hip. Jongin joins him, and Sehun pointedly averts his eyes from Jongin’s exposed ankle, skin smooth and bronzed.

“Nope,” he answers, lips quirking with mirth. “Didn’t need it.”

Jongin lets out an exaggerated noise of pain and clutches at his chest. “Ouch, way to hit a guy where it hurts. And I was gonna offer to sign it, too.”

Their knees knock and Sehun forces his traitorous heart down from his throat. For a few minutes, they nurse their drinks in silence, feet swinging absently as they watch cars ferry their owners from Point A to Point B. 

Then Jongin leans close and deftly unbuttons two buttons of Sehun’s shirt. Lips right by Sehun’s ear, he murmurs, “You were looking a little warm there. That should help.” 

Sehun nearly drops his drink in shock. 

When he turns towards Jongin, the model’s leaning back on his hands, face turned up towards the sky with his eyes closed. He looks like the definition of peace, like he hasn’t just caused Sehun’s dick to perk up in his pants. 

For a while, Sehun just stares. He has so many things he wants to say, and yet the words floating about in his head don’t seem to want to form a coherent sentence. In the end, Sehun turns back to the city. His throat is dry, his cheeks are flaming, and he’s trying his damned best to keep calm. 

He’s just about managed to slow his pulse when Jongin rests a hand on his knee and says, “Oh yeah, happy belated birthday, by the way.” 

“You know my birthday?”

Jongin just gives him an enigmatic smile and drains the rest of his drink, ice and all. Sehun follows the dip of his Adam’s apple and shivers when Jongin’s hand drifts a few inches upwards, fingers wrapping casually around his thigh. 

Disappointment flares like a bonfire in the pit of Sehun’s stomach when Jongin retracts his hand. 

Someone out on the lawn shrieks in laughter and several others respond in kind, and it’s the sound that has Sehun giving himself a mental slap to sober up. As a distraction, he takes out his phone, films a quick Boomerang of the view, and posts it to his Instagram story. 

“Give that here,” Jongin says.

Sehun barely has time to school his features into his signature neutral expression when Jongin takes a picture of the two of them, framed with leaves and blossoms. After a quick glance at Sehun for permission, Jongin saves the photo and uploads it as a post. 

_starry nights and good company_ , Jongin types, as if this is his own Instagram he’s posting on. It could very well be, Sehun thinks, because right now, he doesn’t care what Jongin does with his Instagram.

“You think I’m good company?”

Jongin raises an eyebrow in amusement. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so.”

The pride monster, hiding deep in Sehun’s chest, lets out a content purr. 

  
The next morning, Sehun wakes up to thousands of notifications on Instagram. Still groggy, Sehun clicks on one of them and is promptly taken to the photo of him and Jongin on the roof. It takes an embarrassingly long time for his brain to catch up, but when it does, Sehun blinks at the screen – huh, that actually happened?

He scans through the comments, noting that most of them are people screaming over the fact that they 1) know each other and 2) took a photo together. He doesn’t miss the plethora of _damn they’re hot_ s or the _they look good together_ s, and he definitely doesn’t miss the _OMG I SHIP!!!_ s. 

That single photo easily becomes his most liked picture in less than 24 hours. 

Slightly overwhelmed, Sehun is just about to close the app when he gets another notification. Someone has tagged him in a photo. 

That someone turns out to be Jongin, and he’d posted the very same photo, except the caption on his post is: _unbuttoned buttons have been on my mind since last night_

Fuck. Sehun likes the picture then instantly closes the app, his brain now working at full speed. It’s easy to recall the feeling of Jongin’s fingertips brushing against his sternum as he slipped those two buttons through their holes, the night air kissing his newly exposed skin as Jongin’s lips skimmed the curve of his ear and – alright, he needs a cold shower. 

  
After that night, after that single photo leads to millions of likes and several gossip magazine headlines, Jongin seems to be everywhere. Billboards, newsstands, commercials… Everything that Sehun pays attention to turns out to be Jongin-centric, and it’s honestly driving him a little crazy. Hell, even the magazines that are provided in the waiting area of his company have Jongin’s face plastered across their covers. 

When Sehun walks into a coffee bar one sunny Tuesday and spots Jongin at the counter, sunglasses perched on his nose and lips looking ridiculously pink, he has to fight back the sudden urge to spin on his heel and leave. Unfortunately, several of Jongin’s fangirls spot him instantly, and when one of them squeals, Jongin turns around. 

“Hey,” he drawls. It’s infuriating, how he’s somehow able to make that single word sound so sexy. “Fancy seeing you here.” He grins, nice and slow. “Coffee’s on me. What would you like?”

“Flat white,” Sehun answers, resigning himself to the situation. He squeezes past the girls to stand by the model’s side. “Thanks.”

Sehun swears he sees Jongin wink behind those tinted lenses and the flush that floods his cheeks is downright embarrassing. All he can do is hope that it isn’t obvious.

They wait for their coffee in silence, shoulders centimetres apart, and Sehun spends the entire time taking in lungfuls of Jongin’s scent. He wants to bathe in it, wants to be smothered with it. 

When the barista calls out their names, Sehun startles. Jongin appears to not have noticed, reaching out for their drinks and giving the barista a quick autograph on a napkin while he’s at it. 

Sehun accepts the proffered drink and thanks both Jongin and the barista, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to take a sip before he’s steered out of the café with a hand around his elbow. Behind them, the barista, happy with the gift and the attention, wishes them a great day. 

Sunlight bounces off the asphalt and Sehun curses himself for forgetting his own shades. 

“Got plans?”

Distracted, Sehun squints over at Jongin. “Huh?”

Jongin’s lips quirk. “I asked if you had any plans for the day.”

“Oh.” Sehun clears his throat. “Uh, probably heading to the office to get some work done.”

He gestures to where his car is waiting patiently for him across the street, sleek and black and a surefire way to get him to the damned office. The key digs into his palm from how he’s squeezing it just a little too hard. 

“On a Sunday?”

There are so many things Sehun wants to say about that, because yes, why is he going back to the office on a Sunday when he should be out enjoying his life? He knows why – it’s what his father likes and approves of, but he shoves all the words back down his throat and settles for a half-hearted shrug. 

“It’s good to get a headstart on things,” he says, hoping his excuse doesn’t sound too lame. 

Unfortunately, Jongin clearly isn’t fooled. “Uh huh. Look, how about you take a couple of hours off and come with me?”

“Come with you?”

Jongin hums, tongue darting out to lick off a stray drop of coffee from the rim of the cup, and Sehun rips his eyes away from the sight before he does something stupid – like ask to lick _him_.

“I’m about to go hunting for some nice locations,” Jongin explains, deftly ignoring the paparazzi calling out his name. “Doing a street shoot in a few days and I want it to turn out well.” 

The paparazzi are relentless, heavy cameras and intimidating lenses their weapon of choice. Sehun, although having experienced his fair share of unwanted photo-taking, is still terribly unused to it, but Jongin seems to be blocking out their existence just fine. 

A skill that comes with time and prolonged exposure, Sehun’s sure. 

“You look for your own locations?”

When Jongin starts walking in the opposite direction that Sehun should be heading in, Sehun takes one last look at his car before following, key now lying abandoned in his pocket. 

“Sometimes,” Jongin answers. “Especially if it’s an outdoor shoot, because I like having a connection with my surroundings. If a model is unable to develop connections with both the environment and the fashion, then their work lacks depth. I assume it’s the same for you, at least to a certain extent.”

Sehun takes a sip of his coffee and mulls it over in his head. He works in the architectural design arm of his family’s business, designing anything from shopping malls to quaint little boutiques that sell white t-shirts for $500 apiece. Even before he was officially an employee, he’d spend time in the office with the team that is now under his management, giving his opinions and making little changes here and there. 

He’s bloody good at what he does, that much he knows. Design is something that he’d come to enjoy, although he started out of obligation rather than interest. Now, he chases after the gratifying sense of accomplishment that comes along with his work – when clients compliment his ability to translate their dreams into sketches, when his designs win awards, when a building he designed is completed and he gets to step foot inside.

“You’re not wrong,” he says eventually. “If I don’t feel a connection with whatever I’m working on, I tend to discard it. It doesn’t matter if I’m days away from completing a sketch, I’ll start over if the inspiration dies. There’s no point putting something out there if you’re not proud of it.”

Jongin nods; in approval or agreement, Sehun doesn’t quite know.

“Many people think that modelling is all about looks, but it really isn’t. The most beautiful person on the planet can make the most beautiful outfit look drab and boring if they lack soul. Looks matter, yes, because it’s a cutthroat industry and the public loves looking at pretty people, but there’s a certain art to it that can’t be accomplished just with looks alone.”

They take a corner and then another, and all of a sudden, Sehun finds himself in an area of town that he has never ventured into. 

Almost as if Jongin is able to read his mind, the model looks over his shoulder at him and asks, “Ever been here?”

“Can’t say I have.”

Casual, like he’s done this a dozen times, Jongin reaches out and circles warm fingers around the narrowest part of Sehun’s wrist. One tug and Sehun is right there by his side, shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same air. 

Blood rushes through Sehun’s ears, deafening, and he has to really focus in order to make out Jongin’s next words. 

“I grew up in this area. See that building over there? Shot my first catalogue spread inside; took hundreds of shots and they ended up only using three.” He laughs, reminiscent. “I remember walking out of there feeling like I’d just conquered the world.”

They pass a rubbish bin and Jongin tosses his now empty cup away.

“Anyway, I haven’t been to this area in a while, so I proposed the idea of having the shoot here.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

They cross the street with Sehun’s wrist still in Jongin’s grasp and the paparazzi trailing closely behind. Sehun suspects this very moment will be plastered across various tabloids tomorrow. 

“The upcoming shoot will mark my tenth year in the industry. Thought I’d commemorate it by returning to where it all started.”

Jongin only lets go when they come across a quiet alley, wide enough for a camera crew and boasting plenty of natural light. He gets to work, taking out his phone to snap a few shots from different angles. Sehun hangs back to observe, keenly aware of the other cameras right up in his personal space. But he pays them no mind, choosing instead to focus on the sharp lines of Jongin’s profile and the way his blazer hangs so elegantly off his shoulders. His wrist still burns from the man’s touch. 

Then Jongin turns to him and says, “All done here. C’mon, I need a few more potential locations.”

And Sehun follows. 

  
Outside, the city is quiet and the stars are hidden by clouds, empty streets illuminated by the orange glow of streetlights. Like many nights before, Sehun’s burning the midnight oil once more, hunched over his desk as he spins his favourite pencil between his fingers. 

Across from him is Seulgi, his employee and friend (and his favourite in the team), and she looks just as worn out as he feels. They’ve been cooped up in Sehun’s office for hours, busy brainstorming and working on the sketches for one of their biggest projects yet.

A three-storey art gallery, spacious and modern, unique enough to be considered a piece of art all by itself. It’s a challenge, to say the very least, and it hasn’t gotten any easier over the past four months that they’ve been working on it. Whenever Sehun thinks he’s finally satisfied with one part of the design, he’ll find something wrong with it just the very next day. 

Unsurprisingly, progress has been slow, so he’s been staying back at work to try and stoke the fire. It can get lonely, cooped up in his office for hours until his eyes sting from exhaustion and his bones creak. So when Seulgi offered to join him, Sehun had only half-heartedly argued before giving in.

“I need a break,” Seulgi declares, pencil hitting the stack of papers with a muted thud. Groaning, she gets up from her seat and makes a beeline for the cabinet where Sehun keeps a stash of snacks. 

Sehun sees her head disappear between the cupboard doors, followed almost immediately by a rustle of candy wrappers. 

She pops up, “You want anything?”

“Many things, Seulgi, but not any candy. Help yourself, though.”

“Oh, I will.”

There are several chocolate bars in her hand when she finishes her hunt for sugar and returns to her seat. As she eats, Sehun continues sketching, cheek propped up on one hand as the other works. God, his fingers are so sore. 

“Hey, you should take a break.”

Sehun mumbles something incoherent, too focused on his lines to spare any brainpower for words. Seulgi rolls her eyes and chucks an empty wrapper at his head. 

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” Sehun sighs, adding another few strokes of lead. “But I’m busy.”

“Take a break and chat with me,” she whines, words coming out thick thanks to the chocolate in her mouth. 

Ordinarily, Sehun would have amazing self-control and focus, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s been working on the same goddamn section for the past three hours. So right as Seulgi opens her mouth again to try and convince him to stop, Sehun sets his pencil down and shuffles all the papers into a neat pile. 

With a heavy exhale, he leans back in his seat and studies her. If he focuses, he can feel a migraine coming on. 

“Alright, let’s talk. What about?”

She hums in thought, breaking off a piece of Toblerone. “Well, I’ve been meaning to ask you for advice. You know that dude in tech? Dan? He asked me out a couple of days ago and I don’t know what to say.”

If Sehun didn’t grow up with a sister, he’d be dreading this conversation. But as luck would have it, this particular issue is something he’s had to deal with multiple times over the years, and he’s more than prepared for anything Seulgi might spring on him. 

“You like this guy?”

Seulgi scrunches up her nose, like she’s embarrassed to answer. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“And he likes you.”

“No shit.”

Sehun snorts, getting up to stretch out the aches in his lower back and knees. “So what’s the problem?” Something pops and he groans in relief. 

“The problem is,” Seulgi begins, “I don’t think my mum will be overly fond of him. He’s not really the kind of guy that parents like.”

Perhaps it’s due to the late hour, but Sehun is suddenly overcome with the urge to go on a rant about controlling parents. He knows, however, that words cannot be taken back once they’ve been uttered. 

So instead, he says, “He’s asking to date you, not your parents. He likes you, you like him – that’s all you need to make an informed decision, really.” Immediately after the words leave his mouth, Sehun wonders if they come across as snide. 

Thankfully, Seulgi doesn’t seem to think so. “Yeah? You think I should go for it?”

“I think you should do whatever will make you happy.”

She looks at him, contemplative, then breaks out into a grin. “Okay. If my parents kick me out of the house, I’m coming to live with you.” Sehun doesn’t even have the time to roll his eyes before she continues, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Through a mouthful of chocolate: “You seeing anyone?”

Sehun’s brain promptly powers down. 

He must have stared at Seulgi for far too long because she frowns and leans forward to flap a hand in his face. The action jolts him out of his stupor and Sehun feels the telltale rush of heat shooting up his neck.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were seeing anyone?”

“No,” Sehun hurries to say. “Of course not. I don’t have the time.”

She looks awfully unimpressed. “Right. And that explains how you have the time to be hanging out with supermodels.”

Goddamnit. 

“I’ve only seen him, what, twice?”

“Uh huh. Twice _publicly_.” The implication of her words is clear and Sehun really cannot deal with that right now. The worst part? Any answer he provides will definitely not satisfy her.

“Look, we just happened to be at the same place at the same time.”

His prediction of Seulgi’s reaction turns out to be spot on – disbelief. 

“That’s a load of steaming bullshit. You guys were photographed holding hands!”

“It’s true,” Sehun sighs. “The first time we met was at the charity gala last year. Then, we attended the same party and we bumped into each other at a coffee shop. I have not seen him since.” He pauses. “And we weren’t holding hands, he was holding my wrist.”

There’s a moment of silence, and after each passing second, Sehun comes closer to thinking he’s been let off the hook. Alas, Seulgi shatters his hopes and dreams by saying, deceptively casually, “You know he’s brought you up in a few interviews?”

Sehun nearly drops his glass of water. 

“...What?”

“Yeah, I’ll link you some later.”

With that, she licks her fingers clean and gets right back to work, leaving a stupefied Sehun slumped in his chair. 

  
Sehun wakes up past noon with his hair a mess and the edges of his pillowcase imprinted on his cheek. Still stubbornly clinging onto the last vestiges of sleep, Sehun rolls over onto his back and stretches out in bed, slow and languid.

When he’s able to crack open his eyes and keep them that way, the next thing he does is make his way downstairs to get coffee brewing. Once the machine is humming, Sehun dips into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He skips fixing his hair, because it’s a Sunday and he has absolutely no plans to step out of his front doors. 

Freshened up, Sehun grabs his coffee and a bagel before locking himself in his study. He pauses by the door and scrutinizes his work, breath leaving his lungs in a heavy exhale. The sketches are spread out over his desk, a couple of crumpled wads on the floor, the mess a clear reflection of how frazzled his mind was when he finally collapsed into bed last night. 

“Right,” he mutters. He takes a large gulp of hot coffee, ignoring the sharp burn in his throat. “Back to the grind.”

He’s just barely set his pencil to paper when his desktop pings, signalling a new email. Immediately, dread settles into the pit of Sehun’s stomach. It’s likely yet another email from his client; in the last week alone, they have sent a total of eight emails, each detailing a feature that they want included or removed. Just the thought of having to do another revision has his head aching. 

Sehun refreshes his email client to see something completely not related to work. 

**Subject: Milan Fashion Week - Invitation**

Wait, what? He clicks on it and it opens to what is possibly the most unexpected email he has ever received.

**Sehun -**

**Remember me?**

**I’ll be walking for a few designers at the upcoming MFW and was hoping to have you there as my guest. Front row seats, backstage access, afterparty… all that good stuff ;)**

**If you’re interested, let me know, yeah? I’ll make sure your flight and accommodations are arranged, all expenses covered.**

**Hope you’ll come, it’d be nice to see you again.**

**Jongin**

His chair lets out a squeak when he leans back, poker-faced but brain neurons firing. The mention of Fashion Week has him instantly thinking about the interviews Seulgi had linked him, where in some of them, Jongin has explicitly voiced his (very positive) opinion regarding Sehun’s potential as a model. 

_It’s this… air he carries, you know? Soft and sharp and elegant and raw all in one. I’ve seen and worked with enough models to know that he’d stand out, be it on the runway, in magazine spreads, or on billboards. Sorry?_ Laughter, shifting in his seat, long fingers resting against the inside of his thigh. _Yeah, you could say I wouldn’t mind working with him._

Sehun’s rewatched that particular interview so many times that he’s able to recite those few sentences word for word. He rubs at his eyes and sucks in a lungful of air – and proceeds to type up a reply. 

**Jongin,**

**Thanks for the invite. It’d be my pleasure to be your guest.**

**See you there.**

**Sehun**

He sends the email before he can regret it and closes the window, head spinning. 

Suffice to say, he doesn’t get much work done for the rest of the day. 

  
Two days later, he comes home to an envelope slotted beneath his door, his name written on expensive stationery in elegant script. It hits him the second he picks it up – the envelope smells like Jongin. 

As soon as he locks the door behind him and shrugs out of his suit jacket, Sehun opens it. Inside is a single ticket, silver letters on matte black paper spelling out his invitation to MFW, along with a few sheets of neatly folded paper, which he assumes are his flight and accommodation details. 

“Guy works fast,” Sehun murmurs, setting the envelope and its contents down onto his dining table. He leaves it there while he heats up dinner, leaves it there while he eats, and leaves it there when he goes for a shower. It’s only when he’s ready to turn in for the night does he return to it.

He takes a photo of the envelope and sends it to Jongin. 

_A suite? You can’t buy my affections, you know_

A part of him is well aware that this is considered flirting, but it’s late and he couldn’t care less. 

_I know, didn’t peg you for that type. I just wanted to pamper you ;)_

Sehun flushes hot. God, how embarrassing – he’s the one who started it, and yet he can’t handle it. 

_Well, I suppose you can consider it a success_

When his phone pings with a reply, Sehun opens it to see a photo from Jongin: a black and white selfie of the model winking. Sehun stares down at the screen for much too long before he locks the screen and sets his phone aside. 

Okay, he really needs to sleep. 

  
“Knock knock!”

Alarmed, Sehun shoots upright and promptly slams the back of his head against a shelf in his wardrobe. The shirts in his grip fall to the floor and Sehun bites back a colourful curse, eyes watering in pain. 

“Oops.”

“I know I gave you my passcode,” Sehun sighs, turning around to see his sister leaning against the doorframe, “but that doesn’t mean you can just come in unannounced.”

“I texted you!”

With a pointed look, Sehun gestures to where his phone is. Saehi turns to follow his gaze and spots it lying innocently on the bed, a good few metres away. 

“Next time, call?”

At least she has the decency to look sheepish _and_ help re-fold the dropped shirts. Sehun deposits them into the open suitcase sitting in the corner of his closet and moves on to pants, tracking his sister’s movements with his ears as he searches for something appropriate for a fashion show. 

“I can’t believe you got invited,” Saehi complains, opening a drawer and peering inside. “How _did_ you get invited?”

He finally decides on two pairs, along with a pair of jeans just in case there’s a need for casual wear. Alright, now a nice suit for the red carpet...

“Sehun?”

“Huh?”

Saehi tuts and flings a pair of balled-up socks at him. “Who invited you?”

“Oh. Uh, Kim Jongin.”

She doesn’t say anything for one, two, three seconds, then she shrieks out a, “ _Kim Jongin?!_ ”

Sehun winces at the volume and fights the urge to plug his ears with his fingers. 

“Yeah, why –”

“I never knew you guys were that close,” she goes on to say, eyes wide and rosebud mouth parted in surprise. “I mean, I knew you knew him and all, but since he only ever takes people he dates as his plus ones, so I didn’t – what’s with that look on your face?”

Coughing, Sehun turns away from her. “Nothing.”

He can feel her eyes on the back of his head, but he continues browsing through the dozens of suits hung up in his closet until the intensity of her stare subsides. 

“Hm. Well, if I didn’t know he was straight, I would have assumed you two were getting it on.”

Sehun selects a suit at random and slips it into a garment bag. 

“Haha,” he says, hoping his laughter doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. He loves his sister, he really does, and he can spend hours just talking to her, but he wants this topic to be over and done with. 

But because some things refuse to turn out the way he wants them to, Saehi keeps talking. 

“Do you know if he’s single?”

Sehun, irritation starting to bloom, pries her fingers off a silk shirt and pushes her out of the walk-in closet. He shuts the doors behind him – he can continue packing after she leaves. “Please stop messing up my clothes. Bet you had chips or something and didn’t wash your hands.” 

She rolls her eyes and flops down onto the bed, eyebrows raised expectantly in Sehun’s direction. 

Sehun pinches the bridge of his nose. “As far as I know, he’s single.”

She grins, slow and wicked, looking so much like the Cheshire cat that Sehun shivers. 

“Hook your sister up?”

Sehun grimaces so visibly at that request that Saehi punches him in the thigh. 

“Conflict of interest,” Sehun retorts, rubbing at the sore spot. “I’d like to keep you away from my friends, thank you very much.”

He spends the next few minutes running away from his sister and her fists, and as she corners him and gives him another bruise on his hip, laughing all the while, Sehun thinks the pain is worth ending the conversation. 

  
Most of the flight goes by in a daze. Sehun blocks out the world with his trusty earbuds, eyes shut as his mind whirs and refuses to fall silent. By the time the plane touches down on Italian soil, Sehun is mentally exhausted and ready for ten hours of sleep. Moving mechanically, Sehun collects his luggage, goes through immigration, and finds the driver that Jongin had hired to send him to his hotel. 

The bustling city flashes past the windows in blurred colours and Sehun’s eyes dart from passersby to buildings. It’s a short drive, compared to the flight, and it isn’t long before the car turns down a private street and slows to a stop outside a sleek building. A knee pops when he climbs out on the car and into a dusk-washed evening, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air before the driver hands him his luggage. With a word of thanks, Sehun heads inside. 

The hotel lobby gleams, modern and expensive from floor to ceiling, and Sehun briefly wonders how much Jongin paid for his room. Checking in takes no time at all, and within minutes, Sehun is escorted to the elevators and up to his room, the staff clutching at the key card like it’s the most important thing in existence. 

He stands aside as the room door is opened and his luggage is wheeled in. 

“Have a pleasant night, Mr. Oh. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to give us a call.”

Sehun accepts the offered key card and slips fifty dollars into the young man’s – Jakob, according to the nametag – hand. He must not be any older than himself, Sehun thinks, and something in the depths of his heart twinges when he sees how Jakob’s eyes light up at the money. 

“Oh – thank you, sir,” Jakob breathes. 

Sehun gives him a small smile. “Thanks for your help. Have a good night.”

Once the door closes behind him, Sehun toes off his shoes and socks, relishing in the shock of the cool wood floors against the soles of his feet. The cold wakes him up just a little and Sehun moves further into the room, taking in the apartment-sized suite.

It’s… nice. Really nice, in fact. Money isn’t a problem, but Sehun typically doesn’t spend his money on himself. In Jongin’s words, Sehun feels rightfully pampered. 

Sehun’s just set his suitcase down in the bedroom when the phone rings. 

“Hello?”

“Do you like your room?”

Just his voice has Sehun pulse speeding up. “Hm, it’s alright. Could be bigger.”

Jongin bursts out in laughter, the sound so bright and happy that Sehun can’t help but smile, too. 

“Alright,” Jongin chuckles, “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” 

“Oh? There’s going to be a next time?”

He heads towards the balcony, eyeing the large wicker couch filled with pillows. It’s nice out, the air cool and the sky a wash of deep purple. So Sehun steps outside and folds his frame onto the cushions, phone cradled against his cheek.

“I do a fair amount of fashion shows,” Jongin’s saying. “So yeah, plenty of next times, if you’d like.”

“I do have work, you know. I’m not your house-husband.”

Through the phone, Sehun hears the rustling of fabric and a murmur of voices. Jongin pulls away from the receiver and says, “The other one’s better, Mercie. Colours don’t clash as much.” A bit more noise, then Jongin moves somewhere quieter. “Sorry, last minute prep for the show tomorrow.”

Sehun hums, gazing out at the street beneath, at people milling about.

“What was that you said about being my house-husband?” It’s clear that Jongin’s teasing, but there’s something in his voice that has goosebumps rising on Sehun’s forearms. 

“I’m _not_ your house-husband.” The sentence comes out barely louder than a whisper, but Jongin hears it anyway.

A pause, then Jongin clears his throat and says, “You deserve to be more than someone’s house-husband, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jongin rumbles, and Sehun lets out a breath at how the roughness of that one syllable has his dick twitching in his pants. God, how can one man stir up him like this? 

It’s been almost two years since their first meeting and they’ve only met a handful of times since, but somehow, they click. They click _amazingly_ well, a natural mesh of characters that Sehun can’t quite explain. All he knows is that there’s a spark there, bright and electrifying between them, ready to implode into greatness. 

“I, uh, I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay,” Jongin says easily, like he wasn’t just seconds away from having Sehun pop a boner. “Would you be done in an hour?”

“What’s happening in an hour?”

“We’re going out to dinner.”


	2. Chapter 2

The elevator doors slide open and Sehun breezes into the lobby, freshly showered and feeling much less lethargic than before. There, standing by the revolving doors, is Jongin. The model’s face is turned away, but there’s no mistaking him, not when Jongin’s sweater highlights the width of his shoulders and the way his pants cling so perfectly to slim hips. 

The man is a model of his own calibre; clothes were made to be worn by him. 

“Hey.”

Jongin’s eyes seem to shine when their gazes lock, those dark irises darting down the length of Sehun’s body and back up. Sehun fights back a shiver. 

“Good evening,” Jongin says with an easy smile. “Hope you’re hungry.” He gestures to the street with a sweep of his hand and Sehun takes the hint, stepping through the doors with Jongin following behind.

“We’re walking?”

He glances over his shoulder and sees Jongin right there next to him, so handsome up close it’s devastating. 

“Indeed. It’s nice weather for a stroll, wouldn’t you say? Not too chilly tonight.”

And so they walk, side by side down the streets of Milan. 

“How was your flight?” 

“Good,” Sehun answers. “Decent food, decent champagne.”

“Tired?”

Their shoulders bump. “Yes, but I’ll last through dinner.”

They make it another block before Sehun gives in to his burning curiosity. “My sister told me that you’ve only ever brought girlfriends as your plus ones to your shows.” The question is there, unspoken but clear. 

“That’s what the public sees,” Jongin says with a shrug. “I won’t lie, I have dated all of them, but I use the term ‘date’ very loosely. Many are publicity stunts that my management arranges; for some reason, the tabloids love it whenever I’m spotted with a new girl on my arm. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement – the girls get their fifteen minutes of fame and perhaps a helping hand into the modelling industry, and I get my name in the tabloids without needing to start a scandal.”

He seems to realise where Sehun’s train of thought is leading, because he comes to an abrupt stop and closes his fingers around Sehun’s forearm. “But I hope you know that you’re not a publicity stunt. I truly wanted you to be my plus one.”

“If I were a woman, I wouldn’t believe you.” Sehun can feel Jongin’s warmth through the thin fabric of his turtleneck. “But I suppose I have no reason to doubt you.”

Something akin to relief ghosts over Jongin’s face. “Yeah. Okay. That’s good.”

Regrettably, Jongin’s hand falls away and they resume their walk. It really is a good night for a walk, Sehun admits. The city thrums with life, cars going by and people laughing, and it isn’t long before Jongin touches him on the elbow, signalling for him to stop. 

“We’re here.”

They enter a quaint little restaurant, the maître d' greeting Jongin by name before leading them towards the back where a booth awaits. For some godforsaken reason, Sehun blushes at the sight of a candle on the table, flame dancing happily as they take their seats. 

“This place serves the freshest pasta I’ve ever had,” Jongin tells him, opening the menu. “Anything you choose will be delicious, that much I can promise you.”

Along with their food, Jongin orders a bottle of pinot noir, listening to the options given before he makes his choice. It takes a single sip for Sehun to know that the bottle probably costs a few hundred dollars. 

“You come here often?”

Jongin sets his glass down. “Yeah, whenever I’m in town I’ll come at least once. The owner is a close family friend. I usually come alone, but when you said you’d come to the show, I knew I had to give you a treat.”

“You’re raising my expectations,” Sehun says. “I hope the food’s as good as you say it is.”

He gets a wink in reply before their waiter comes by with a basket of fresh bread. The second he catches a whiff of the bread’s fragrance, Sehun’s stomach lets out a low rumble. He tucks in, silently marvelling at the softness of the bread and the richness of the butter, and polishes off two slices in no time. He rolls his eyes at the knowing look Jongin shoots him.

“So,” Sehun begins, taking a sip of wine. “No girlfriend to bring this season?”

The tip of Jongin’s knife stops millimetres away from the butter. He looks up at Sehun, a faint crease between his brows. “No, no girlfriend.”

“My sister would be pleased to hear that.” 

Butter finally finds its way to the slice of bread resting in the cradle of Jongin’s fingers. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Sehun shrugs. “She thinks you’re cute or something.”

“I see. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

Jongin drops his half-eaten slice on his plate and brushes off the crumbs on his fingers. “Do you share the same sentiments as your sister?”

Okay, he needs the rest of the wine for this. Sehun drains his glass, jiggles his leg, and leaps off the edge of a proverbial cliff before he says, “Yeah.”

“Yeah? To both?’

There’s really no going back now, he supposes. Sehun meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Both.”

Heat settles into Jongin’s eyes and Sehun feels it in the pit of his stomach. 

“You can let your sister know that I’m not interested.”

“In her?”

They’re forced to halt their conversation when their food arrives. It smells amazing, looks beautifully presentable, and the waiter has barely left when Sehun picks up his utensils and tucks in. Just one bite and he understands why Jongin waxes poetry over this restaurant. The flavours of the sauce are phenomenal, not to mention the texture and consistency of the pasta itself. 

“Good?”

“Mm,” Sehun answers, chasing a mouthful of pasta down with wine. “Excellent. You have good taste.”

Pleased, Jongin leans close enough for his next few words, spoken quietly, to be heard. “Of course I do. I wanted you for my plus one, didn’t I?”

Sehun nearly chokes on his food. 

  
Nighttime brings with it a chilly breeze, but Sehun’s so warm and sated from dinner that the drop in temperature doesn’t bother him whatsoever. He waits outside while Jongin handles the bill, watching as a group of teenagers walk by, laughing and invading each other’s personal space. Two girls take a quick selfie, a guy lights up a cigarette between chapped lips, and a couple steals a quick kiss. 

Sehun has never had such experiences. He wonders what it’d be like. 

As the group turns a corner and disappears from view, Jongin steps out of the restaurant and comes to Sehun’s side.

“Thanks for dinner.”

A casual wave of his hand, then Jongin’s shoulder is brushing his as he says, “My pleasure. You flew here for my show.”

“You paid for my flight. Least I could do is come.”

The corner of Jongin’s mouth twitches. “Said I’d pamper you, didn’t I?”

Sehun flushes, thankful for the relative darkness of the street as he heads in the direction that they came from. Behind him, he hears Jongin chuckle, then his footsteps as he follows.

They pass a woman who recognises Jongin, her eyes widening and lips parting when Jongin gives her a genial smile in acknowledgement. He signs the back of her phone, poses for a photo, and declines a hug before continuing on, a finger brushing down the back of Sehun’s hand as he goes. 

Sehun looks back over his shoulder to see her watching them go.

“You never answered my question,” Sehun says eventually. “My sister?”

“Ah. Yes, I’m not interested in her.”

“That’s something I don’t usually hear.”

Jongin glances over at him. “What do you mean?”

Sehun shrugs. “I mean, look at her. People are always head over heels for her. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who’s not attracted to her.”

From a few feet away, a tiny dog yips and tries to run circles around its owner, only to be thwarted by the leash around his neck. Jongin snaps a quick picture of the pup and posts it to his Instagram story – Sehun thinks of the night up on that rooftop. 

“I’m not saying I’m not attracted to her; you’re right, your sister is very attractive. What I’m saying is, I’m not interested in dating her.” A pause, then: “Besides, I don’t think your sister is the most attractive one in your family anyway.”

Sehun’s brain short-circuits. 

He’s not oblivious. The flirting doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but Sehun has always attributed it to Jongin’s nature, something that occurs whenever Jongin is interacting with another person. Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected that Jongin’s flirting comes with a…purpose. 

“You, uh, better not have a thing for my mother.”

Jongin laughs good-naturedly. “No, not your mother. Or your father.”

Sehun’s at a loss for words, too aware that he only has himself to blame for falling into this hole, but at least it doesn’t seem as though Jongin’s waiting for a response. Instead, he just shoots Sehun an indecipherable smile and continues walking. 

  
There’s the hotel. 

Sehun feels both relieved and disappointed, a curious mix of emotions that has him reeling. 

“Well, goodnight,” Jongin says, standing a polite distance away. “Have a good rest and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll send someone to get you, so the odds of you getting lost will be slim to none.”

“Yeah, thanks. See you tomorrow.” 

With a nod, Jongin turns to leave, but he only makes it a few steps before Sehun blurts out, “Would you like to come up for a nightcap?”

And so, Sehun finds himself in the elevator with a family of five, Jongin so close to him that he can feel the heat radiating off the man’s skin. Two of the kids are loud, trading poorly aimed punches that their parents turn a blind (and tired) eye to, but the third one, a little girl, is quiet. When the family steps off the elevator, she turns and waves goodbye. Jongin flutters his fingers in response.

The doors close, leaving the pair alone inside. Neither one deigns to put some space between them. 

Sehun’s skin is prickling, fingers itching to close around the fabric of Jongin’s shirt and pull him close, close enough to taste. This sort of desire is foreign to him and it’s terrifying, because he has no idea where it will lead and how it will end. 

The elevator dings. The top floor. His room. 

It’s with methodical actions that Sehun unlocks the door and steps inside, shutting it when Jongin’s cleared the threshold. As he toes off his shoes, he watches Jongin out of the corner of his eye. 

“You’re right,” Jongin says, looking around. He moves towards the couch and Sehun trails after him. “Could be bigger.”

Sehun’s physically exhausted, but his mind chooses to ignore it. Instead, it’s so active that Sehun finds himself saying, “You can make it up to me.”

“Oh? And here I thought dinner was enough.” Teasing words, but there’s intent in his voice, like he knows exactly what Sehun wants. 

Turns out he does, because Jongin is the one who steps in Sehun’s space, hand hot against the back of Sehun’s neck, thumb resting against the corner of his mouth. At the touch, Sehun stops breathing, and he can almost feel the dilation of his own pupils when Jongin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

“If you don’t want –”

Jongin’s laugh is breathless when Sehun interrupts him, the press of their mouths rough and messy and perfect. At the first pass of Jongin’s tongue along the bow of Sehun’s lip, Sehun shudders and lets Jongin deepen the kiss, blood burning from how he licks in, almost as if he’s laying claim. And maybe he is. 

Sighing, Sehun finds Jongin’s bow-plump lip and draws it between his teeth, worrying at it, sucking at it, tasting the man. When he pulls back, he eyes the tender redness of Jongin’s mouth and leans in to kiss it again, chaste and soft and imploring. 

The hand around his neck moves down over the curve of his shoulder and the length of his arm. It ends up around his wrist, thumb stroking over the thin skin that keeps his pulse warm. Jongin takes a seat, and Sehun doesn’t need words to know what’s implied. 

He steps into the space between Jongin’s legs. 

“Why me?”

Jongin blinks up at him, a look of incredulity spreading across his face. “Why you? Why _not_ you? You’re smart, talented, capable –” He ticks off each word with his fingers, “– you’re strong-willed, and you have this air of modesty around you that’s so hard to find in others of the same status. I can tell that privacy is important to you; you don’t flaunt what you have or what you can do, and that’s stupidly attractive to me. You drew me in instantly.”

“We met two years ago. Why now?”

“Babe, you were twenty-one. So young, so new to the corporate world, still finding your footing. I didn’t want to take advantage, and I figured that if you were still available in a couple of years, then it must be fate. You’re still young now, but I can tell that these couple of years have toughened you up.”

Sehun studies him. “It’s hard not to grow up quickly in these times.” He sets a knee on the outside of Jongin’s hip, watching as Jongin tracks the movement. 

“I understand.” 

Sehun believes that he does.

The other knee mirrors the first, and Jongin lets go of Sehun’s wrist to slide both hands up the length of his jean-clad thighs. Just the slow drag of Jongin’s touch is enough to spark a flame in Sehun’s gut. 

“I didn’t know you like men as well.”

“I’m not interested in the fallout that’s bound to occur if I come out.” Jongin’s jaw tightens and he looks away. “At least not right now. Maybe in the future.”

“Yeah. Me too. Only a few people know.”

At that, Jongin smiles. “I was hoping my hunch was right. You didn’t have any girlfriends, at least none that have been revealed to the public, so…” 

Sehun finally lowers himself onto Jongin’s lap. This position will kill his knees later, but right now, with their pelvises flush and those hands smoothing absently over the curve of his ass, Sehun thinks it’s worth it. 

Imperceptibly, the air shifts. Jongin leans up in one swift movement, tugging down the neck of Sehun’s turtleneck to attach his lips to the skin there, speaking as he mouths a wet trail along the line of Sehun’s pulse: “Patience is rewarding, it seems.”

When Jongin sucks, Sehun feels his blood rise to the surface of his skin and he keens, fingers gripping the short hairs on the back of Jongin’s head for purchase. It’s been too long since someone’s mouth on his body has him feeling this way and Sehun is greedy for more, so much so that it only takes the first brush of Jongin’s fingertips along the bare skin of his hip for the fist of need in his belly to tighten. 

Jongin releases Sehun’s flesh with a wet sound, and Sehun mourns his absence instantly, grinding down onto Jongin’s crotch petulantly. 

“You,” Jongin begins, only to shake his head and slide his palms up Sehun’s flanks, eyes darkening as his shirt rucks up to reveal inch after inch of unmarred skin, a fresh canvas all ready for him. 

Sehun lifts his arms and lets Jongin rid him of his top.

It’s as though Jongin can’t keep his hands off him, from the hollow between his clavicles, the faint dents of muscle down his biceps, the even spaces between his ribs. He touches reverently, breath warm over a nipple as his thumb caresses the sensual dip of Sehun’s navel, glancing up at Sehun’s face ever so often as if he needs to remind himself that this is real.. 

The air in Sehun’s lungs rushes out of him when Jongin licks over a nipple, the tip of his tongue drawing tight circles around the bud until Sehun’s trembling in his hands. One tug with his teeth and Sehun moans, the sound ringing in Jongin’s ears. 

Jongin soothes the sting with a slow, languid lick, thumb coming up to flick at the neglected nipple. Sehun stares down at him, mouth ajar, and swears when Jongin closes his lips around it and sucks. He sucks on one and plays with the other until Sehun’s erection is straining against the zipper of his jeans, at which point Jongin finally stops the torture to admire his work, nipples swollen and raw and standing proud. 

When Jongin’s nail catches against the button of his jeans, Sehun makes quick work of it and the zipper, getting off the couch to kick his jeans off before he re-settles astride Jongin’s lap. During that time, the model has peeled off his own shirt, and Sehun can’t help but run his fingertips down those finely sculpted abs. 

“Look at you,” Jongin murmurs, swiping a thumb over the ever-growing spot of wetness on Sehun’s underwear. Sehun jerks at the touch, a blush threatening to stain his cheeks. “All because of me?”

“No one else here,” Sehun replies breathlessly, and Jongin chuckles. 

Gentle, like Sehun would break otherwise, Jongin cups his erection and the soft heft of his balls. A squeeze, and Sehun bucks up into his grip in a futile search for friction. God, he feels like he’s going insane. 

“Will you let me see?”

In lieu of a verbal response, Sehun takes one of Jongin’s hands in his and guides it inside his underwear to where he’s wet, hard and aching for release. 

“Fuck,” Jongin sighs, closing fingers around the girth of Sehun’s cock as the other hand moves to tug the front of his underwear down, tucking the band behind the swell of his balls. He coaxes another bead of precome out, which he swipes up and lays out on his own tongue. 

That sight alone is almost enough for Sehun to spill, and it’s only thanks to extreme self-control that he doesn’t. 

“I need to get you to a bed,” Jongin says, all serious. When Sehun’s cock jumps at the thought, Jongin gives it a nice pump, smearing wetness down the shaft. “Can I?”

“Yeah, fuck, please.”

He barely manages to get the words out before Jongin’s kissing him with a hand cupping his jaw, and it’s a testament to how much Sehun wants it when he just lets Jongin have his mouth. 

“Okay,” Jongin says against his lips, “okay.”

  
Grinding into the sheets proves little relief, but when he can feel Jongin settling down behind him, thumbs sliding between his asscheeks to spread them apart, Sehun decides that things could be a lot worse. The first touch of Jongin’s dry thumb against his hole has Sehun’s breath hitching, and it sticks in his throat when Jongin presses down and gives it a tight rub. 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Jongin says conversationally, breath washing over Sehun’s clenching hole. “It makes sense that you’re pretty down here, too.” 

Sehun only has a split second to steel himself before Jongin is dragging the flat of his tongue over his asshole, the tip catching against his rim and sending aftershocks of pleasure radiating through his frame. He breaks up his licks with kisses, lips moving over the furl of muscle like he’s making out with Sehun’s hole, and it’s so filthy that Sehun almost screams into the pillows. 

“Perfect,” Jongin announces when he comes up for air, smoothing a hand over Sehun’s cheek. “Fucking perfect.” Then he’s diving back in, lapping at Sehun until he’s dripping, spittle running down the back of his balls to join the growing puddle between his legs. 

_I could come like this_ , Sehun realises, and lets out a broken moan when Jongin bullies the tip of his tongue inside. What started out slow turns into something on the rough side, the way Jongin proceeds to fuck him with his tongue a crude allusion to what Sehun wishes will ultimately happen. 

As though Jongin could read minds, he pulls back just enough to say, “I wanna make you come just from having your ass eaten. Then, I wanna make you come again on my cock.” He drags a finger over Sehun’s hole, sloppy and lax and winking against the pad of Jongin’s finger in worship. “Would you let me do that?”

“Do it,” Sehun rasps, gripping the sheets so tightly that his fingers hurt. He wants to come so badly. “I want everything.”

Happy, Jongin returns to his first task with renewed vigour. He eats Sehun out until he’s babbling a string of nonsense, begging to come, rutting into the sheets like he’s in heat. 

Everything turns white-hot when Jongin seals his mouth over Sehun’s hole and sucks, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. Sehun comes with a shout, wetting the sheets and involuntarily pushing his ass back into Jongin’s face. 

A true gentleman, Jongin licks him through the aftershocks, soothing passes of his tongue over where Sehun’s sore. He continues until Sehun’s squirming away, oversensitive, at which point Jongin lets him go with a final kiss against the pucker. 

“I need a moment,” Sehun gasps, chest heaving with great breaths. He flips onto his back and watches through heavy lids as Jongin finally steps out of his own pants and smiles down at him, looking stupidly satisfied. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s hard to focus.”

His mouth dries up when he sees Jongin fist his own cock – he’s so hard it looks painful.

But Jongin doesn’t seem terribly bothered by how aroused he is. He lets go of his erection and it curves proudly up towards his belly; Sehun can’t stop looking at it. 

“Like what?”

“Like you want to devour me.”

Jongin climbs onto the bed, neatly avoiding the wet patch. 

“How else am I supposed to look at you?”

With an embarrassed groan, Sehun pushes himself upright and settles against the headboard. “If I suck your dick, will you stop saying shit like that?”

He doesn’t miss how Jongin’s erection twitches with interest at the idea. “That might work.”

Seconds later, Sehun finds himself with the head of Jongin’s cock in his mouth, silky and warm and just a little salty. The weight of it in his mouth is nice, comforting even, and Sehun hums around his mouthful as he suckles.

Slowly, Jongin feeds him more of his cock, inch by inch, until he’s sheathed inside Sehun’s throat. His jaw is starting to ache, but when he hears Jongin’s breathing grow heavier, Sehun doesn’t pull back to rest. Instead, he grips onto sharp hips and looks up. Jongin reads the permission given for what it is and he starts moving, slight rocks of his hips just enough for his toes to curl. 

The sweet, gripping heat around his cock and Jongin swearing under his breath, reaching down to cup the curve of Sehun’s throat. He strokes the skin there, feeling the girth of his cock, and eases out. He breaks the line of spittle and precome with his finger, bending low to kiss those swollen lips. 

“Any longer and I’d come,” he says apologetically, brushing away the wetness that has collected on Sehun’s bottom lash lines. “And if I did, I would not be able to fulfil my second promise.”

He moves and pulls Sehun along the bed with him. 

“Fair enough,” Sehun rasps, head lolling to the side to let Jongin mouth down the column of his neck. “When’s that happening, by the way?”

Jongin reaches down between them and traces the hard line of Sehun’s cock. “Hmm. Right now seems to be a good time.”

After some fumbling, they find a small bottle of lube and a strip of condoms tucked away in the bedside drawer. It’s not too long before Jongin has two slicked fingers inside Sehun, drinking in Sehun’s moans that spill forth whenever he crooks them. 

Three fingers in and there’s a mess on Sehun’s belly.

“Inside,” he croaks, nudging Jongin in the small of his back with a foot. “Please.”

Seems like Jongin doesn’t want to drag it out either, because he pulls his fingers out and gets the condom on in record time, sliding flush into Sehun until he’s arching off the bed, mouth open in a silent moan. 

Through the haze currently clogging up his mind, Sehun feels sticky fingers threading through his own and he responds in kind, clutching onto Jongin’s hand as the latter pulls out only to thrust back in, cock kissing impossibly deeper. It brushes something inside him that Sehun’s pretty sure never existed until now, and he pleads for Jongin to do it again and again and again.

And Jongin does, free hand gripping Sehun’s hip as he starts fucking him in earnest.

 _He’s ruined me for anyone else,_ Sehun manages to bemoan before a well-aimed thrust pushes what’s left of his thoughts right out of his body. Sehun pulls Jongin close with a hand around his neck and meets every single one of his thrusts, sharing air and pleasure until his orgasm catches him by complete surprise. 

Pleasure crashes down on him like a massive wave – Sehun comes so hard his extremities go numb and his thighs quiver with exertion, eyes misty when they fly open to fixate on Jongin’s face. 

“Come on me,” Sehun whispers, knowing Jongin’s close to his own peak. There’ll be bruises on his hip from those fingers, but he doesn’t mind. 

Jongin obeys, pushing himself over the edge with a few more thrusts before he pulls out and yanks the condom off. One stroke and he’s coming, streaks of come landing across Sehun’s torso. The last strand falls over Sehun’s half-hard cock, anointing it. 

For a while, they remain in that position, Jongin crouched between Sehun’s legs as they come down from their highs. Their fingers remain interlocked.

“I think I need a shower,” Sehun says eventually. “And I think I should leave an extra tip for the poor person who will clean up this mess tomorrow.” He gestures to the spots of bodily fluids all over the duvet. 

Jongin snorts out a laugh.

  
Sehun wakes the next morning, feeling extremely sated, and feels a nice ache between his asscheeks when he stretches. Still sleep-laced, he reaches around and brushes over his hole with a finger, feeling where he’s still slightly open and sore. His mind jumps instantly to the model, to the brief bout of disappointment he felt when Jongin told him that he’s unable to stay the night due to early preparations for the show the following morning.

After a quick shower, Sehun had walked him to the door. 

Jongin paused at the threshold, one hand on the frame. His hair, still damp, framed a strong jaw. “I’ll see you at the show?”

“Yeah.”

He was the one to close the distance between them, leaving a chaste kiss on Jongin’s lips before he could change his mind. 

Jongin left with a smile and Sehun had gone to bed feeling something he’s never felt before.

Now, as he rolls out of bed and pads into the bathroom, he catches sight of the marks that Jongin had left behind on his body. He touches the love bite near the base of his neck and it dawns on him that its _affection_. That unnamed feeling is affection, the non-platonic sort. 

“Ugh,” Sehun says out loud. He glares at his own reflection, ignoring the spots of colour on his cheeks. “Just admit you like him, idiot.”

When his reflection doesn’t reply, Sehun huffs. Whatever, he can deal with this later. Right now, he has to get ready to be Jongin’s plus one. 

It takes him forty minutes to get ready, from his hair to the shine of his shoes. Just as he finishes doing up the last button of his shirt, the phone rings. It’s the concierge, informing him that his ride has arrived. 

Sehun takes one last look at himself in the mirror. Black slacks, one of his favourite silk shirts, and a leather jacket. The first few buttons are undone, and if he looks hard enough, he can still spot faint blotches of colour – the love bites, carefully covered up with concealer. 

Good enough. 

  
Fashion has never been a field that Sehun dabbled in, although he appreciates his fair share of couture wear, so saying that he feels out of place would be an understatement. 

The red carpet alone is overwhelming, what with the sheer amount of camera lenses shoved in his face. It’s bloody awkward, having to pose for photos while trying not to flinch every time a flash goes off. 

Once inside, he’s brought to one of the many large tents and ushered to a seat. Some celebrities – many A-listers that Sehun recognises – give him curious looks as he settles down in the front row, probably wondering who he is and how he’s able to nab such a prestigious seat. Praying that none of them try to start up a conversation, Sehun pulls out his phone to check his email (Seulgi has somehow managed to send him ten over the past 48 hours) and messages (a handful from his team at work and two from his sister; he promptly deletes Saehi’s after hearing Jongin’s name in the first twenty seconds of the first message).

It works well until someone taps his shoulder, making it impossible for him to pretend he doesn’t exist. 

“You’re Oh Sehun.”

He has no idea who she is. Looks familiar though, maybe an actress?

“Uh, yes. Hello.”

“You’re here as Kim Jongin’s guest, aren’t you? I recognise you from the pictures on his Instagram.”

“Yeah.”

She hums, thick lashes fluttering as she takes him in. “I heard he’d be bringing someone, ah, important to him.”

“...Important,” Sehun echoes. 

She nods sagely. “Anyway, sorry for bothering you. Just wanted to put a face to the mystery, that’s all.” After a knowing crook of a perfectly shaped brow, she returns to her own business. 

He doesn’t have much time to mull over her words, however, because after a few minutes, the lights dim and the first show begins. 

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Sehun hops from tent to tent, feeling a little more frazzled with each passing show. It’s crowded, the venue packed full of media correspondents and celebrities, and Sehun really feels like a fish out of water. The only upside to being here? Seeing Jongin up on the runway, doing what he does best. 

The man is gorgeous, everyone knows that. But with spotlights on a perfectly contoured face and clothes tailor-made to fit his frame, he is breathtaking. 

Jongin closes for every single show he walks for, always right next to the designer when the show is over and they take their bows. If Sehun gives in and takes a couple of clips of Jongin’s walk down the runway to post on Instagram, no one can blame him. 

When the day has wrapped, Sehun finds himself whisked away. He squeezes past make-up artists, hairstylists, models, and a whole lot of security before he realises that he’s being brought backstage. 

He spots a shirtless Jongin across the room, folded into a portable make-up chair. There’s someone cleaning the make-up off his face as the model himself busies himself with his phone. 

“Mr. Kim?” Jongin’s head snaps up. “Your guest is here.”

Sehun can feel dozens of pairs of eyes upon him when Jongin brightens and beckons him over. Christ, even with eyeliner smudged all around his eyes, he still looks stunning.

“You made it! What did you think? Hectic, huh?”

A chair magically appears by Jongin’s side and Sehun takes a seat. “It was…an experience.”

Jongin laughs, phone forgotten on his lap. “Yeah, and people wonder why these shows never start on time. What’d you think of the clothes? I quite liked what I got to wear this season.”

“You looked nice,” Sehun agrees automatically.

“I asked about the clothes, but I’ll take that compliment.”

Sehun catches Jongin’s wink and he flushes. The make-up artist steps aside and Jongin stretches with a groan, taut muscles tensing as he works out all the tightness. Swallowing, Sehun turns his gaze away. This is not the time to be focusing on the faint scratches down Jongin’s bare back that Sehun _knows_ are from his nails. 

“So I was thinking,” Jongin begins, accepting a plain black t-shirt from an assistant, “that we go out and do some architectural sight-seeing.” 

Surprised, Sehun stares at Jongin’s profile for a good ten seconds before saying, “What?”

“Oh, does that not sound appealing? Since you work as an architectural designer, I thought you’d –”

“No, it does. I just didn’t think you’d be willing to do that. It can get quite boring for those not interested in architecture.”

“It’s for you,” Jongin says, as though that’s all the explanation needed. A quick run of fingers through his hair and Jongin hops off the chair, ready to go.

True to his word, they spend the evening going to various buildings that have been internationally lauded for their design. Sehun takes way too many pictures and Jongin lets him, never once complaining about spending far too long at the same place. 

They grab a late dinner at a roadside restaurant, legs brushing under the table as they eat. For dessert, they share a large cup of gelato. Sehun wonders if this counts as a date, but he doesn’t dare to ask. It’s nice, though. Despite the chill, he feels warm. 

The night ends much too soon. 

Hidden in a spot untouched by light and shrouded by night, Jongin bids Sehun goodbye out on the street by his hotel. “I’m afraid I can’t head up tonight. Have an extra early start tomorrow.” 

“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Rest well.”

Unsure, Sehun doesn’t lean in, but it’s okay. Because Jongin does, hand warm around the curve of his cheek and mouth soft on his. Sehun’s heart beats double time. 

When they part, Jongin smiles. “You too, Sehun. Goodnight.”

  
The days go by like this. Every night, they spend time together doing touristy things and not-so-touristy things, and it isn't long before the last day of Milan Fashion Week is just around the corner. 

It’s also the night of the after-party. 

They show up together and the paparazzi go crazy, already knowing how much a good shot of the two men will cost. There’s no holding hands or anything of that sort, but when they’re shoulder-to-shoulder and unable to keep their eyes off each other, it’s not hard for people to start speculating.

Jongin introduces him to so many people that Sehun loses track of everyone’s names. A couple of designers even offer him a modelling contract right off the bat, much to Jongin’s glee, but Sehun turns them down politely – he already has a job!

He does, however, allow them to send him a few pieces from their collections. It won’t hurt, Sehun supposes, to take a few photos and upload them onto his Instagram.

After shaking hands with potentially a hundred people, Sehun massages out the soreness in his fingers and accepts a drink that Jongin holds out to him. They’ve found a relatively private corner, something Sehun greatly appreciates. 

“This is a little surreal, to be honest. I’ve never been in a room with so many influential people in my life. Everyone here seems so…” He waves a hand, struggling to find the appropriate word. “Perfect.”

Jongin gives him an odd look. 

“What?”

“Have you seen yourself?”

Sehun coughs into his drink. 

“I’m serious,” Jongin continues. “They seem perfect to you because they’ve had years of practice. A lot of it is an act, from the way they walk, to the way they pose, to the exact amount of teeth shown when they smile. You? You’re not like them. Besides, perfection isn’t always desirable.”

Music spills all around them. Sehun studies the bubbles in his champagne as they fizz to the surface.

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Sehun drains the rest of the glass and deposits it on a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Us.” He flaps his index finger between them. “What are we doing? Are you looking for something casual?”

A pause, then Jongin looks out at the mingling crowd and says, “No. I don’t want a casual thing. Do you?”

Oh. 

Somehow, Jongin doesn’t take his silence as bad news. He chuckles instead, amusement flooding his eyes, and he leans close enough to press his side against Sehun’s. 

“Sorry, it’s probably a lot to take in, huh? Whatever your decision, I’ll –”

“I don’t want this to be casual either.”

When Jongin looks at him, Sehun catches how his eyes flicker down to his mouth. The model smiles, but there’s a twinge of sadness to it that Sehun wants to kiss away.

“You should know,” Jongin says, daring to reach out with his pinky. Sehun lets him hook it around his own. “I can’t publicize this. At least not now. This industry...”

“That’s okay. I don’t particularly want the attention anyway.”

At that, Jongin chuckles. “Yeah, sounds like you.”

Someone calls out Jongin’s name and they break apart, Jongin slapping on a well-practised grin as he moves to greet his fellow models. After a brief conversation, Jongin reaches back to pull Sehun forward. 

“This is Sehun,” Jongin says. “A really good friend.”

His hand stays wrapped around Sehun’s wrist. 

  
Missing a whole week of work has its consequences. 

Since the minute he landed back in his city, Sehun has been swamped with work. Days after his return and he’s still pulling long hours, only leaving the office past midnight. His team isn’t being particularly productive either, not when they’re all grilling him on his first Fashion Week experience and spending the entirety of it with Kim Jongin. 

“We’ve seen the photos,” Baekhyun stage-whispers one day. Sehun glares at him, but he has a feeling that the effect is somewhat diminished, what with the bags under his eyes. “Are you guys really just friends?” 

Even Miki, the newest to his team and the quietest person Sehun has ever met, has something to say. 

“He seemed very happy to have you there,” is all she says in that saccharine voice of hers, but it’s enough to have Sehun blushing and demanding for everyone to shut up and focus on their work. 

Saehi drops by his office one sunny Tuesday. When Sehun’s secretary calls to inform him of her arrival, he groans and drops his head onto the desk.

“Um, Mr. Oh? Are you okay?”

“Yeah…you can send her in. But please let her know I’m busy and she can’t stay long.”

The line goes dead and Sehun attempts to slap some energy into himself – he’s gonna need it to deal with his sister. 

“Hel _lo_ ,” she crows, opening his door without bothering to knock. One of her many bad habits, Sehun thinks. 

“Hey,” he replies. He sketches out a window and frowns down at it. “What are you doing here?”

“I was thinking of buying my little brother lunch.” She flops into one of the armchairs and slings her legs across the armrest, and Sehun eyes the way the flowy fabric of her dress settles perfectly around her. God, how does she do it?

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time,” Sehun says. He doesn’t feel bad for declining, not when his reason is completely valid. 

She pouts. “Aw, not even a quick bite?”

Sehun fights the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright. Something fast.”

Fifteen minutes later and ‘something fast’ turns out to be the McDonald’s next door.

He’s just taken a bite of his burger when Saehi leans close and pokes the back of his hand with a fry. “Sooooo? How was Fashion Week?”

“Interesting. Hectic. A lot of glitz and glamour and mess. Not my thing.”

Saehi rolls her eyes. “Many things aren’t your thing.”

Sehun grabs the fry out from between her fingers and pops it into his mouth. “Then why ask if you know the answer?”

She kicks him under the table and Sehun retaliates. 

“So did you get laid?”

The question is so unexpected that Sehun chokes on his drink, soda threatening to shoot out his nose as he coughs his lungs out. Saehi angles herself away from the blast zone and slides several napkins over that Sehun grabs and slaps against his face.

“Wh- _what?_ ” It comes out in a wheeze and Sehun’s positive his face is as red as a tomato.

“There are so many hot people at Fashion Week,” is Saehi’s explanation. “I’m sure you managed to land one of them. You’re not too bad yourself, you know.”

Sehun wads up the used napkins and takes a breath. “No, I didn’t.”

She looks like she doesn’t believe him whatsoever, but she doesn’t press. Unfortunately, she _does_ ask about someone else. 

“What about Jongin? I heard that some of the newer models had their eyes on him and stuff.”

A sudden rush of smugness floods Sehun’s veins and he hurries to school his features into indifference. “Oh? Hm, didn’t see him flirt with any girls. He spent most of his free time with me; brought me to do a whole bunch of touristy shit.”

Saehi sighs dreamily. “I don’t think you know just how many people would kill to have experienced that.”

“I’m sure,” Sehun says dryly. 


	3. Chapter 3

After a couple of weeks, his workload finally starts to ease up and Sehun takes a whole weekend off. He buries himself under the covers in until noon, after which a cold shower rinses away the last dregs of sleep from his eyes. Armed with a mug of freshly brewed coffee and dressed in nothing but a fluffy robe, Sehun flops down on his couch and flips through various channels before deciding on a noir film. 

This is bliss, he decides, sipping on his brew. Sunlight is streaming in from his windows, tickling his toes and giving his house plants some much-needed nutrients. 

He’s getting into the film when his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up.

_Good afternoon :) Up to anything today?_

_Yeah, my plan is to do absolutely nothing today. You? How’s the jetlag?_

They’ve been texting ever since Fashion Week, conversation interspersed with Sehun showing Jongin the progress of his sketches and Jongin taking snaps of various fashion pieces. The topic of their first actual date (Jongin had insisted that their many nights together in Milan should be considered dates, but Sehun pointed out that there was never any confirmation) was brought up multiple times, and Sehun can’t wait for the actual day. 

But they haven’t set a day and time, as Jongin has just returned from various schedules overseas and he’s been spending the past two nights trying to fix his sleep schedule. 

_Well, I woke up before 5pm today, so I think that’s progress. I was thinking…. I could bring some doughnuts over?_

_Is this our first date_

_Do you want doughnuts and sweatpants to be our first date?_

Sehun doesn’t even know when the smile on his face got there, but it’s growing bigger and bigger with each passing second.

_I think that sounds nice :)_

_Great; any doughnut requests?_

_As long as you don’t get the filled ones. Those are always horrible._

_Got it! Be there soon :*_

The smile is a full-blown grin by the time Sehun sets his phone down and returns to his coffee. He has a date! With Kim Jongin! It’s a childish kind of excitement, but Sehun embraces it wholeheartedly. 

  
“Hi,” Jongin grins. There’s a box of fresh doughnuts in his hands but Sehun’s only got eyes for how good _he_ looks, all handsome and cheerful and with a mop of tousled hair.

It’s been over a month since they parted ways in Milan and Sehun hasn’t realised how much he’d missed Jongin’s presence until this very moment. Missing someone you barely know – a fact that Sehun has come to accept – is an odd feeling, but Sehun’s not about to lie to himself. 

“Hi,” Sehun replies, stepping aside to let Jongin in. 

The doughnuts find a spot on the kitchen counter and Sehun barely has time to straighten out the box before Jongin crowds in close, an arm around his waist and a hand cupping his jaw. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says pointedly, then proceeds to do just that. 

The counter’s edge is digging painfully into his back, but Sehun ignores the discomfort and focuses on the softness of Jongin’s mouth instead. After a good minute or so, they part and Sehun absently thumbs at the shine on Jongin’s bottom lip.

“That was nice.”

Jongin nods, “It was. So is your robe.” He runs a palm down Sehun’s arm. “It’s so soft, where’d you get it?”

“It was a gift from my mother,” Sehun says, wriggling out from between Jongin and the counter. He closes his hand around Jongin’s and gives it a tug. “She gave me a pair. Wanna wear the other one?”

And that’s how they find themselves tangled in a heap of fluffiness on the couch, doughnuts in hand as a new film plays. 

“You have a nice place.”

“Thanks, finally owning my own place was a dream come true. I love my family and all, but they can be very overbearing.” 

Jongin steals a bite of Sehun’s doughnut. “Yeah, I understand. I grew up with my mother and two sisters, and I remember the days where they would bug me about girlfriends and stuff, one after the other. Wasn’t until I left that they finally wrapped their minds around the fact that I was an adult.”

As they talk, Sehun discovers just how easy it is to converse with the model. Jongin gives as good as Sehun does, sharing anecdotes that mirror Sehun’s own. From their first kiss to the first time they embarrassed themselves in front of VIPs, they talk until the sky gradually darkens. 

Jongin’s in the middle of telling Sehun how he’d accidentally fractured his manager’s wrist when his stomach growls audibly. 

“Oops.”

“I can cook a mean aglio e olio,” Sehun offers. 

Jongin looks at him pleadingly. 

  
Somehow, Sehun finds himself with a dozing Jongin sprawled over him. Jongin’s head is pillowed on his chest, arms curled around Sehun’s middle, and his breathing is wonderfully peaceful. Sehun stares down at the top of his head, at the tips of his ears, and gently brushes a few locks of hair out of Jongin’s forehead. 

There’s a pleasant ache in his chest cavity and Sehun can’t help but plant a soft kiss on Jongin’s head. Well, it doesn’t seem like he’ll be able to move for the next hour or so, so Sehun holds Jongin close and turns his head to watch whatever happens to be on the TV now. 

Jongin stirs awake just as the credits start to roll. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against Sehun’s shoulder. “The food was so good and you’re so comfortable.” 

“It’s okay.” Sehun thumbs at the faint indentations on Jongin’s cheek. “You needed the rest. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to sleep a little longer, although I’ll probably need a stretch first; my back feels like it could crack in ten different places.”

Jongin hurries to sit upright.

“Here, turn around, I’ll rub out the soreness.”

“You don’t wanna sleep a bit more?” 

When Jongin pauses, Sehun laughs. “I can tell you’re tired. Here, how about this, you stay the night. We’ll take a shower and get into bed, and if you really still want to give me a backrub, I’m all for it. But if you want to sleep, I’ll join you in bed. I can always just binge a Netflix show while you sleep.”

Jongin groans and rubs at an eye. “That sounds heavenly.”

They do just that, and Sehun even lets Jongin rub soap into his skin, basking in the obvious delight that Jongin takes from running slippery palms down his chest, thighs, ass. If Jongin wanted more, Sehun wouldn’t be able to say no, but it seems the model is a little too tired for that.

Leaving Jongin to towel off, Sehun finds him a pair of sweats and a new pair of underwear, chuckling when Jongin tugs them on and sprints into the bedroom, jumping onto the mattress like an overgrown child. 

“You don’t seem very sleepy to me.”

“Oh, I’m exhausted. But I also want to enjoy this a little more before I knock out. I wasn’t able to stay through the night with you back in Milan, so this is a moment I should treasure.” He beckons to Sehun, who drops his towel and joins Jongin on the bed. 

He stretches out on his stomach, toes pointed and fingers reaching for the headboard. When Jongin moves to straddle the back of his knees and pushes his thumbs into the knots in his back, Sehun moans and goes limp.

“God, you’re tense.”

“I spend so much time hunched over my desk,” Sehun mumbles into the sheets. “It’d be a miracle if I wasn’t.”

Jongin leans over to grab the bottle of unscented body lotion (Sehun _actually_ uses this for his skin, thank you very much) Sehun keeps on the bedside table and squirts out a few pumps onto Sehun’s back. The sudden cold has Sehun muffling a yelp, but with the help of Jongin’s hands, the lotion quickly warms up.

With slow, even strokes, Jongin works out the kinks in Sehun’s back and shoulders. Sehun rides a wave of bliss, hyper-focused on the aches that seep out of his pores with every push of Jongin’s fingers. 

“Up,” Jongin says quietly, a finger tapping Sehun’s hip. “Let me get your lower back.”

Sehun lifts his hips and lets Jongin tug his sweats and underwear down.

“Ow, right there,” Sehun winces. The pain seems to be radiating from his tailbone and up his spine. Maybe he needs to invest in a better office chair, one with excellent lumbar support…

Jongin dutifully kneads out the aches, and as the minutes pass, Sehun starts to drift. 

Until those slick hands move a little farther down to smooth over his ass. 

Oh, okay. Sehun’s eyes spring open and anticipation floods his veins, instantaneous. 

For a while, Jongin simply kneads each cheek like a baker kneads dough. It’s nice, actually, the repetitive movements calming to the mind. But Jongin easily breaks the moment by slipping a finger between the cheeks, tracing a line down to his hole, where he circles the rim with ever-gentle strokes. 

It’s alarming how quickly Sehun’s dick chubs up at the touch. 

“So, so pretty,” Jongin comments, as casually as one would comment on the weather. “Sometimes I still can’t quite believe you let me enjoy this. I think about it all the time, you know.”

“About what?”

“Our first time. I’ve never had sex quite like that.”

Sehun blushes into his pillow. 

“I also think about how I kinda just… took from you,” Jongin continues, spreading more lotion over his fingers. “So now, I want to give.”

The lotion’s smeared over his hole and rubbed into his skin, each firm drag of Jongin’s fingertip over the puckered skin sending tiny shivers of pleasure bouncing around in Sehun’s gut.

“Aren’t you tired?” Sehun asks, heat high on his cheeks when he feels Jongin holding him open, probably to get a better look at his hole, now shiny with lotion. 

“Not when I have this view.”

Jongin simply rubs at his entrance until Sehun whines for more, trapped dick leaking into his sheets. The first finger slips in easily, sliding up to the knuckle, and Jongin finds his prostate in one try like he’s done it every day for the past five years. He simply brushes against it, but it’s enough to have Sehun squirming, hips canting back for more. 

“Let me,” Jongin soothes, pressing a palm on the small of Sehun’s back. 

It’s maddening, how Jongin only pays the slightest attention to his prostate, apparently too engrossed with the sight of his finger slipping in and out of Sehun to do much else. He keeps Sehun at a constant high, but never high enough to tip over the edge, and the easy push-pull continues for what feels like hours. When Sehun feels a second finger squeeze in, he nearly sobs from both relief and frustration.

“Jongin, please –”

His words dissolve into a shaky cry when Jongin finally, _finally_ puts pressure directly onto his prostate. He can literally feel himself leak into the sheets and fuck, it feels so good. 

“Babe, you’re otherworldly.” Jongin drags the pads of his finger over the gland and groans when Sehun shakes apart in his hands. 

Without any warning whatsoever, he picks up the speed, fingers fucking into Sehun at such a fast pace that Sehun doesn’t even have the chance to prepare for his impending orgasm before it hits. He spills with a muffled shout of Jongin’s name, come sticky between his belly and his duvet, and Jongin fucks him through it mercilessly. 

Sehun feels as though each nerve is on fire. 

When his orgasm finally subsides and Jongin eases his fingers out, Sehun takes a great big breath and looks over his shoulder. The model looks stupidly happy with himself, the fingers that were buried inside Sehun’s hole just ten seconds ago now wrapped around his erection, the head flushed and wet with precome. 

“I can –”

“No no,” Jongin says, pulling on his cock. “I don’t want you moving a finger.”

So Sehun lies there and watches through hazy eyes as Jongin pulls his cheeks apart and gives his cock another few, rough pumps. Then he’s coming, white stripping Sehun’s skin and landing prettily over the rise and fall of his ass. 

The sight of Jongin rubbing his own come into the cleft of his ass nearly has Sehun’s dick perking up again. But it stays down, thankfully, too tired to think about rising once more. 

“I’m ready to sleep,” Sehun announces.

Jongin laughs. “Yeah, me too. Let me clean us up first.”

While Jongin bustles about in the bathroom, Sehun buries his face into his pillow and smiles.

  
Things go swimmingly well for months. So well, in fact, that Sehun thinks he might be falling in love.

They meet up for little dates whenever possible, sometimes going out for meals, but mostly staying home where paparazzi won’t be able to get at them. With all the photographs of them together, Sehun’s now a budding name in the tabloid atmosphere, with Jongin’s fans and netizens in general wondering what their exact relationship is.

Neither men deign to provide the public with an answer.

Sehun doesn’t mind, for he treasures his own privacy and he understands why Jongin would want to keep their relationship a secret. There’s also the fact that they’re technically not boyfriends – neither one has broached the subject, but there’s no real need to, because they’re happy with how things are. 

Labels aren’t necessary, not when Sehun is the one Jongin wishes good morning, not when Sehun is the one Jongin brings to events, not when Sehun’s name is the one on Jongin’s tongue when he climaxes. 

It’s enough, more than enough. 

“You look happy,” Seulgi says one day. They’re in one of the meeting rooms, waiting for the rest of the team to join them for their biweekly check-in meetings. To pass the time, Sehun’s working on one of his projects. 

Sehun stops whistling and glances up from his papers. “Hm?”

She raises her eyebrows. “I said you look happy.”

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.”

With a click of her tongue, Seulgi nudges Sehun’s papers aside and leans into his space. Sehun frowns at her, confused.

“You look _happy_. Like, I have never seen you this happy. Is there a reason?”

“What, a guy can’t be happy?”

The look she gives him is one of such exasperation that Sehun immediately feels chastised. 

“That’s not what I meant, idiot. Jeez, do I really have to spell it out for you? I’m asking if _Kim Jongin_ has anything to do with it. From all the photos – you’re in every other picture he posts on Instagram, you know –, it’s really not hard to jump to a conclusion.”

Sehun shrugs. “We’re not boyfriends.” That’s not technically a lie, so he doesn’t feel that bad.

“Uh huh. But the two of you are _something_ , I can tell.” Before Sehun can react, she stops him with a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you. Whatever you two have, it’s doing wonders for you.”

At that moment, the door opens to reveal Baekhyun. Seulgi sits back and pretends to arrange her files, giving Sehun the chance to compose himself. 

When their eyes meet, Sehun gives her a small smile, thanking her for both her support and understanding. She returns it. 

  
Jongin’s arm is a nice, warm weight across his belly and Sehun uses that as an anchor when he slowly climbs out of slumber. He cracks an eye open to see sunlight spilling in through the slit between the curtains, painting a strip of gold over Jongin’s skin. Mm, it’s already beginning to look like a wonderful Saturday. 

Carefully, Sehun rolls over onto his side, feeling the pleasant ache around his hips where Jongin had gripped just a little too hard last night. Face-to-face with the man, Sehun leans close enough for the tips of their noses to bump. Jongin doesn’t stir awake and Sehun can’t help but do it again. 

It’s the fourth attempt that does something, Jongin scrunching up his nose and pulling Sehun closer to ease the itch against his shoulder. 

“Wake up,” Sehun laughs, throwing a leg over Jongin’s bare hip. He can feel Jongin’s morning wood hot against the seam of his thigh – a tempting thought, but they’re still sore from last night and Jongin has promised to make him waffles for breakfast. 

“Wh’time issit?”

A kiss to his cheekbone has Jongin smiling sleepily. “It’s time for my waffles.”

“Alright, alright.”

With a grand stretch, Jongin finally opens those magnetising eyes. They crinkle up at Sehun and the latter flushes at the affection he sees in them. 

“I’ll make you your waffles, but first I want a kiss.”

“Not until you’ve brushed your teeth,” Sehun says, finger against Jongin’s lips.

He gets a nip to his fingertip for that. “You drive a hard bargain, good sir, but I accept.”

Sehun makes good on his deal, swooping in for a kiss as soon as Jongin’s toothbrush drops back into the holder. 

“Mm, good morning indeed. Time to make you some waffles.” Jongin gives Sehun a pat on his boxer-clad butt and walks out of the bathroom, hand fluttering behind him as an indication for Sehun to follow. 

As Jongin whips up some fresh batter, Sehun gets started on the coffee and a large bowl of sliced strawberries. They work in easy harmony, moving around each other for ingredients or kitchen utensils.

Before long, the fragrance of waffles starts to waft through the penthouse and Sehun sets aside his bowl of strawberries and mugs of coffee to look over Jongin’s shoulder. 

“Smells really good,” he says. “Thanks for making me waffles.”

Jongin kisses him. “Promised you, didn’t I?”

When the waffles are ready and Jongin brings a stacked plate over to the table, Sehun takes a picture of the spread – he makes sure that Jongin’s hand appears in a little corner – and posts it to his story. 

They eat as the morning news plays in the background, Sehun’s legs placed over Jongin’s lap. Sehun catches a glimpse of their reflection in the surface of the wall across the room and it’s awfully domestic, from their bedheads to how Jongin’s got a hand around Sehun’s ankle as he eats.

He wishes he could take a picture of this moment and frame it. 

Two waffles each and they give up, saving the remaining one for a snack later. 

“Hey, finish your strawberries.”

Jongin opens his mouth and lets Sehun dump the rest of the berries inside. He chews and grins at Sehun, teeth stained red, and Sehun snorts so hard his coffee nearly goes back up his nose. 

He leaves Jongin to clean the table as he washes the dishes.

“Babe,” Jongin calls. “Uh, is your family having a private dinner two weeks from now for your sister’s birthday?”

Sehun rinses off a plate and sets it aside to dry. “Yeah, I think so. She likes to throw these huge parties that I don’t attend, so we have a separate celebration. Why?”

“I just got a text from my mother. She says that we’re invited.”

Up to his elbows in soap, Sehun frowns down at the suds. “What? Why?”

He hears Jongin enter the kitchen and turns to see him leaning against the counter, brows drawn together. “I’m not sure. Mum says that there’ll be something to discuss.”

“Hm, some business deal, I assume. What else can it be, right?”

Jongin sets his phone aside and steps close to give Sehun a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, probably. ”

  
Turns out Sehun’s not completely wrong, but he’d never expected it to be this. 

Ashen-faced, he’s got his dinner napkin balled up in a death grip as across the table, Jongin’s mother continues speaking. She looks excited, sounds excited, but Sehun can’t seem to hear anything she’s saying, not since the words _we are proud to announce that my son, Jongin, will be betrothed to Saehi_ ripped his fucking heart out. 

His ears are filled with a low buzz and he’s distinctly aware of how he’s sweating through his fancy shirt, but all he can do is sit there and hold back the waterfall of words that is threatening to escape. _He’s mine_ , he wants to say. _Mine_. 

Sehun doesn’t look over at where Jongin’s seated on the other side of Saehi. He doesn’t want to see Jongin’s face, for he knows he won’t be able to handle the look of devastation that is surely veiled behind those handsome features. He can, however, see Jongin’s hands from where they’re resting on the tabletop, fingers curled into fists. It’s clear that he’s entirely blindsided by this – Sehun can’t imagine what must be going through his mind.

Saehi’s excitement is palpable and it makes Sehun feel sick to his stomach. 

He’s jostled out of his thoughts when the door to their private room opens and the waitstaff come in. Sehun struggles to tune into what his father is saying.

“...to circumvent the long-lasting clause wherein company mergers are only allowed if both parties are legally bound. I understand that such arrangements may be hard to get used to, especially if there is no established romantic connection, but I know that my daughter holds Jongin in high regard.” He pauses to take a sip of water. “The wedding will be held in a year and a half; I’m sure that’s enough time for something to grow.”

It’s business between their families and they’re using their children to seal the deal. 

Sehun wants to throw up. He springs to his feet and barks out an excuse before leaving the room, blindly making his way down the long hall to the bathrooms. 

Thankfully, there’s no one inside when he barges in and beelines for the sinks. Sehun splashes handfuls of ice-cold water onto his face and stares at his reflection, wondering how everything went to shit so quickly. 

He realises in horror that one of the water droplets rolling down his face is a teardrop. 

Before he can wash it away with yet another handful of water, there’s a knock on the door.

“Sehun?”

Just the sound of Jongin’s voice has Sehun’s heart seizing. 

The door creaks open and Jongin slips inside, and Sehun doesn’t have the heart to pull away when Jongin holds him close, face buried into the crook of Sehun’s neck. 

“I’m so sorry.” Ah, there goes his strength to hold it together. Tears fall freely, staining the fabric of Jongin’s shirt. “I’m so sorry, Sehun. I didn’t know this was going to happen. Many months ago, my mother asked what I thought of your sister, but I never thought –”

“It’s not your fault,” Sehun interrupts quietly. He closes his eyes; if he focuses hard enough, he can feel the quick beat of Jongin’s heart against his chest. 

After a few seconds, Jongin presses his lips to the curve of Sehun’s ear.

“I love you,” he whispers, the sweetness of the words clashing miserably with the pain in his voice. Sehun sighs, letting more tears fall. He’d been waiting to hear those three words and to hear them now, after that explosive news… 

But he has to say it back, _has to_ , because he loves Jongin too. 

“I love you too.”

Jongin clutches him closer, tighter, like he never wants to let go. 

But in the end, he leaves first, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Your parents sent me to check on you. I’ll tell them you have an upset stomach?”

Sehun nods, running the pad of his thumb along Jongin’s lashline and catching the remnants of a tear. 

“Hey, we’re not over.” Jongin grasps Sehun by the shoulders, hands moving up to clasp either side of his neck. He leans in to kiss the wetness on Sehun’s cheeks. “Okay? You and I, we’re not over.”

  
In the wake of the betrothal, Sehun spends all his waking hours at the office. 

He works until he feels like he’s about to collapse then works some more, sometimes even spending the night at his office, curled up uncomfortably on the couch. Keeping busy helps him forget (and he gets a lot done, which he supposes is the one upside to this debacle), something he’s grateful for. 

Jongin calls him every day without fail, because they both know that meeting each other in person right now would be too hard. Yet, while the sound of his voice hurts, it still makes Sehun stupidly happy to hear it. They talk about anything except the dreaded wedding and the love declarations that they exchange before the calls end are bittersweet. 

Night after night of pushing himself to the limit has its consequences. 

He falls sick. Fever, cold sweat, a sore throat, a blocked nose… the works. 

Sehun wakes up one morning and feels like death, like roadkill left out to rot. Even reaching out for his phone is a struggle, what with his limbs weighing more than lead. 

_not coming in today, think i’m down with the flu._

He sends it to Seulgi and promptly falls asleep once more. 

The second time he wakes, it’s to the sound of someone else in his house. He doesn’t panic, because there’s only one person who knows the code (he’d changed it a few months ago when Jongin started coming over more often, just in case Saehi decides to drop by unannounced again). 

So Sehun lies there, head pounding, and listens to the faint sounds of Jongin bustling about downstairs. He knows that Seulgi has something to do with Jongin finding out that he’s sick – he’ll scold her after he gets better. 

He dozes off, only rousing when he hears footsteps. 

“Hey,” Jongin says, soft. He’s carrying a large bowl on a tray that he sets down on the bedside table. “I made you some soup. Got the recipe from a good friend; it probably doesn’t taste as good as his, but I think it’s okay.”

Jongin’s hand feels so blessedly cool against his forehead that Sehun whines, wanting that sensation everywhere on his body. 

“Oh, baby, you’re burning. Here, try to drink some soup, I’ll go find you some medicine.”

“No,” Sehun manages to croak. Jongin’s _here_ , with him, and Sehun doesn’t want him to leave. “Please stay.”

Sad. That’s the easiest way to describe how Jongin looks right now. Leaning down, Jongin gives Sehun a gentle kiss on his head before lifting the covers and climbing in. 

“Can you sit up? I really want you to eat something.”

Sehun nods, letting Jongin help him up into an upright position. He does his very best to eat as much as his stomach will allow, gaze fixated on how Jongin blows on each spoonful of soup before bringing it up to Sehun’s lips. If his nose wasn’t clogged and he could taste, Sehun’s sure it’d taste delicious.

“Thank you,” Sehun mumbles thickly once he admits he’s unable to eat any more. He feels close to crying again. “You didn’t need to come.”

“That’s stupid,” Jongin says. He sets the tray aside and pulls Sehun back down, making sure the covers are up around Sehun’s shoulders. “Why would I not come and take care of the person I love when he’s sick?”

That has Sehun blubbering, tears obscuring his vision and snot making his breathing situation ten times worse. 

Jongin holds him through his weak cries, fingers carding soothingly through his hair and rubbing circles into his bicep. It doesn’t take long for Sehun to fall asleep again, cheeks wet and eyes swollen. 

The last thing he hears before he succumbs to slumber is, “...you so much, Sehun. Please never forget that.”

  
There’s a bead of sweat running down the side of his neck but Sehun can’t escape indoors to escape the heat due to one small issue – there is no indoors. He’s at the site of his new building, the art gallery that he and his team have spent hours upon hours sketching, editing, and finalizing. After dozens of changes and re-proposals, they’d finally received approval from the client and building has since commenced. 

He was on the way to a meeting with his father when he drove by the construction site and decided to check in on its progress. Everything looks good; the foundation has been set and things are moving along slowly but surely. 

Well, at least one thing in his life is going right. 

After another twenty minutes of chatting with the various employees on the project’s status, Sehun takes his leave. He’ll be slightly late for his meeting, but Sehun knows his father will understand, especially if the delay is due to work. 

His father’s office is in another wing of the building. Sehun doesn’t venture out of his own floor much, preferring to stay in his comfort zone where he knows everybody and has his own space. People like to chat him up when they see him, probably because he’s the CEO’s son, and Sehun hates that. Hates how some people are interested in him because of the power they think he holds, hates how they try to get into his good graces for their own sakes. 

The walk to his father’s office is as obnoxious as Sehun had expected. Employees bow when he walks past, moving out of the way to let him through. The sight makes Sehun’s skin crawl, but he needs to be polite, so he bows back and plasters a smile on his face until he’s knocking on his father’s door.

“Come in!”

“Hi Dad. How are you?”

His father smiles up at him from across his massive table. ‘Doing well, son. How are you?”

“Busy,” Sehun laughs. He takes a seat. “What did you want to discuss today?”

“Ah yes, I have a couple of projects for you.”

Sehun raises an eyebrow. It’s unusual for his father to directly pass him clients, as the man is a firm believer that you have to work for what you want. So for him to do so, the projects must be important.

“I want you to design a new boutique for _Major Arcana_ , as well as a house for Jongin and Saehi to live in after their marriage. Saehi specifically requested for your designs; she is your biggest fan, after all.”

It’s a struggle to keep his voice even, but Sehun manages. 

“Okay. Does Mrs. Kim have any requests?”

“Nope, she wants you to design as you see fit. She’s well aware of your talents and she wants you to use them freely.”

Sehun nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat. His father continues on. 

“You’ll likely need quite a bit of time for these, so I would suggest passing on some of your projects to the other teams to work on.”

“I’ll look into that,” Sehun says. He stands, ready to turn tail and flee. “Is there anything else?”

“Your mother wants you home for dinner soon,” his father tells him. “Let her know when you’re able to drop by, hm?”

With a bow, Sehun leaves.

He manages to keep his composure all the way back to his own office, but once the door shuts behind him, he grabs the nearest vase – an ugly gift from a client – and flings it across the room. It flies into a wall and shatters into a million pieces, the sound loud and jarring and almost a perfect echo of the state of his heart. 

  
Water sluices down his back and steam rises all around him. 

He’s been in the shower for nearly half an hour, just standing under the spray in the hopes that the pressure will wash all his worries away. But all it accomplishes is turning his fingertips into prunes. 

Sighing, Sehun shuts off the water and reaches for his towel, giving his hair a perfunctory rub before wrapping it around his waist and stepping out. 

Jongin should be back in town soon, and he’ll be heading straight for Sehun’s place as soon as his plane touches down on domestic soil. He’d been gone for the better part of two weeks for a commercial project and Sehun’s missed him. The texts and photos help, but nothing beats having a warm, solid body to hold. 

He needs to enjoy the time they have together, every second and minute and hour they’re able to be with each other, because they’re running out of time. One day, their relationship will be one of adultery and Sehun doesn’t know if he can stomach it. 

By the time Jongin gets here, it’ll be too late for dinner. He would’ve eaten on the plane anyway, so Sehun simply sets aside a couple of mugs for some tea later. 

From its perch on the bar counter, Sehun’s phone pings. 

_Hey love, just landed. I’ll be there in an hour, okay?_

_Okay, see you soon :)_

With an hour to waste, Sehun sets a vinyl to play and picks up a novel that he’d left on the coffee table, his page marked with a movie stub. He curls up on the loveseat and begins to read. 

He’s just gotten to an exciting part of the story when the door lock beeps and Jongin steps in. Sehun sets the book back onto the table instantly and gets to his feet, meeting Jongin halfway down the hall. 

“Hi,” he breathes. He pulls Jongin close with a hand around the base of his skull and kisses him, nice and slow and deep. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Jongin smiles. “Always hate being away from you.”

They leave Jongin’s luggage by the door and Sehun leads Jongin up the stairs and into the bedroom. 

“Go take a quick shower. I’ll make you some tea; are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Jongin admits. “Been a bit more peckish lately.” He brightens. “Ramen?”

Sehun laughs. “Okay, okay. I’ll make you some ramen.”

He turns to head back downstairs, but Jongin catches him around the wrist and pulls. Sehun stumbles a little ungracefully, but Jongin holds him steady and brushes his lips against the corner of Sehun’s mouth. 

“Thank you.”

“Mm.” Sehun angles his head for a proper kiss. “Of course. I love you.”

“I love you too. My angel.” Sehun gets a bop to the nose and then Jongin’s disappearing into the bathroom, the sound of the shower turning on following in seconds.

Twenty minutes later and Jongin is happily slurping down the last of his instant ramen. 

Once Jongin is done, the bowl ends up in the sink, ready to spend the night soaking in soapy water. The model joins Sehun back at the table, where he’s nursing a large mug of tea, and ruffles his hair. 

“I have something I need to tell you,” Jongin begins, and Sehun can tell from the tone of his voice that it’s something he won’t like. “I think you deserve to know.”

Sehun takes a breath and sets his mug down. “Is this about Saehi?” He can’t mope forever; he’s an adult, and while faced with a completely unfair situation, he needs to handle it maturely. 

“Yes.” Jongin laces their fingers together, runs his thumb down the flat of Sehun’s nail. “You know I’ve been trying to talk my way out of this, but…”

“It’s impossible,” Sehun finishes for him. “I know. My father will always get what he wants.”

“I should explain, regardless. My mother’s fashion line hasn’t been doing well recently. She’s in quite a bit of debt, and she refuses to ask my sisters for help because they have families of their own. I’ve already loaned her a fair bit of money, but she doesn’t want to rely on my paycheque to keep her line afloat either. So this business deal with your father serves two uses: one, to help with her business, and two, to marry me off.” Jongin sighs and scrubs at his face. “She thinks I have no intention to marry because I’m unable to find the right girl. She thinks I’ve been single when in actuality, I was – and still am – happy with you.” A pause, then Jongin squeezes Sehun’s fingers. He laughs, a hollow sound. “She wants more grandkids.”

Sehun looks down at their hands. 

“I understand,” Sehun says eventually. He offers Jongin a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“But I feel like it is. If I’d come out a year ago, or two years ago, or –”

Sehun stops him with a hand around his arm. “Hey. We agreed on keeping it quiet. We wanted to keep what we had private. There’s no way to know that this would be the outcome. If you want to blame yourself, then you have to blame me too.”

Jongin presses the back of Sehun’s fingers to his cheek. “A bit too late now, I suppose.” He closes his eyes and Sehun watches him, giving Jongin free reign to nuzzle into the palm of his hand. “I have to start dating her. How can I bring her out for dinners or parties and not wish it was you instead?”

_Don’t cry,_ Sehun tells himself. _Not when he needs you to be strong, not when he shouldn’t be carrying the weight of it all on his own._

“One step at a time,” Sehun whispers. 

Jongin’s eyes meet his. “One step at a time.”

  
Just as Sehun thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does. 

It’s bad enough that he has to work on his sister’s dream house, the house that Jongin will eventually move into, that their kids will grow up in. At least Saehi is happy about the entire situation, if how much she gushes about Jongin is any indication. It’s obvious that she’s smitten. He’s not surprised, not when he’s pretty much the same way. Somehow, she doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that it’s essentially an arranged marriage; they’ve been dating for several months now, the relationship already made public, and Sehun’s been hating every second of it. 

Speculations abound. Netizens wonder about the relationship between Sehun and Jongin and the sudden rise of Saehi’s presence. There are theories of all sorts, from polyamory to cheating, and Sehun does the best he can to pretend none of them exist. A week after Jongin and Saehi’s relationship is made public, he deletes Instagram from his phone. 

Saehi never fails to inform him of their dates, of where Jongin takes her and how he pampers her with flowers and little gifts. Sehun wants to snap at her, wants to shake her by the shoulders and tell her that all these gifts were chosen by him, because he’s her fucking brother and he knows her best. He wants to tell her that Jongin is doing this because he has to, that all the presents are to convince her he truly wants to be together when he doesn’t. 

But he keeps his mouth sealed shut. He can’t do that to her. 

Jongin comes to him after every date with Saehi. He’s getting bags under his eyes now, jaw tense and the muscles in his shoulders drawn tight with stress until Sehun touches him. 

“I can’t do this,” he declares one day. He’d spent the night and he’d woken up with the realisation that he’ll be leaving Sehun’s house to bring his sister out on a date. How fucked up is that? Making love to Sehun, falling asleep and waking up next to Sehun, then leaving Sehun to take Saehi out for lunch. 

“Jongin,” Sehun begins, only to be interrupted by words he’d never expected to hear.

“I want to marry _you_.”

Sehun’s world crumbles to ashes. 

“Don’t say that.” His voice cracks on the last word. “Take that back.”

But Jongin doesn’t.

“Kim Jongin, you take that back. You take it back right –” 

“No.” Jongin takes a step closer and Sehun backs away. “No, I’m not taking it back. It’s the truth. You are the one I want to be with, back then, now, and in the future. Forever. You are the one I want to write vows for, the one I want to go on a honeymoon with, the one –”

Sehun throws the nearest item at him and Jongin dodges the plastic coaster easily. 

“Fuck you,” Sehun hisses, eyes wet and skin aflame. “Do you think I’ve never thought of that? Do you think I’ve never wished that I could take the place of my sister? That I can tell everyone and anyone who would listen that you are mine and I am yours?” He picks up a pillow and flings that at Jongin. Jongin catches it. “Who do you think you are, telling me you want a future with me that can _never_ happen?”

The tears are flowing now, angry and hot and heartbreaking. A few feet away from him, Jongin is crying, too. 

“I hate you,” Sehun continues, nails digging half moons into his palms. “I hate that I love you this much. I hate that even now, I can’t leave you. I –” He gives up, collapsing onto the couch with a hitched sob that threatens to turn into a scream. 

Jongin’s there in a heartbeat and Sehun curses his own traitorous heart when he lets Jongin pull him close, half-strewn across his lap. 

“I love you so much, Sehun. I’m so sorry.”

And they cry, wrapped up in each other as the sun hangs high in the sky. 

It’s a beautiful day outside. 

  
The first and only time Saehi tries to tell Sehun about the sex, Sehun walks right out of the room. She pouts and calls after him, saying that he needs to relax, that boundaries don’t exist between siblings. 

Sehun’s lip curls in derision. If only she knew.

  
“Happy birthday, love.” A lone candle flickers between them, pushed into a slice of cake from Jongin’s favourite bakery. “Make a wish?”

Jongin stares at the flickering flame. “Will it come true?”

Sehun doesn’t give him an answer, because they both know what it is. Instead, he kisses Jongin on the cheek and tries not to make a wish of his own when Jongin blows the flame out in one breath. 

  
The news of their engagement is plastered everywhere. It’s featured in newspapers, in magazines, on online gossip blogs. Their parents are thrilled; Sehun can’t get away from it all fast enough. 

Seulgi corners him in the pantry the day the news breaks. 

“What the fuck?”

He blinks at her, blank. “What?”

“He’s marrying your _sister?!_ ”

Sehun feels his brain shuttering off. “Ah, that. Yeah.”

She looks at him incredulously. “That's it? That's all you're gonna say when it's clear what he is to you? What the hell is happening?”

He doesn't meet her gaze. “There's nothing else for me to say.” Then he walks away. 

  
Almost a year after that fateful birthday dinner, wedding preparations are finally underway and Saehi has declared Sehun to be her best man. In exchange, one of Jongin's sisters will be his maid of honour. Saehi thought this little swap would be cute. 

Jongin willingly lets Saehi plan the wedding, telling her that he’ll be happy with anything as long as she is. She even selects her own engagement ring, which ends up being complimented on a plethora of fashion blogs. Speaking of social media: some are calling the upcoming nuptials ‘an event to remember’, the union between a world renowned supermodel and a widely accomplished businesswoman something that hundreds of thousands of people seem to be invested in. 

“She wants me to go with you when you pick out your suit,” Sehun mumbles, head on Jongin’s chest as they cuddle in bed. They’re barely paying attention to the movie that’s playing on the television across the room, choosing instead to focus on each other. 

Jongin lifts Sehun’s hand to his mouth and kisses him on the palm. “I want you there and I don’t want you there at the same time,” he admits. “Do _you_ want to be there?”

“I always want to be with you.” 

A sigh ruffles Sehun’s hair. “And I always want you with me. Guess we’re doing this, huh? Pick out an ugly suit, okay?”

Sehun huffs out a sad laugh. “Saehi will kill me if I bring you back with an ugly suit.”

“Then we’ll get a boring suit. I’m not wearing The Suit if I’m not marrying you.”

The mention of their own wedding, one that would never happen, still sends a pang through Sehun’s heart. “Okay,” he says, voice surprisingly even. “We’ll get you a boring suit. But you know you’ll still look handsome as hell, right?”

Jongin hoists Sehun impossibly closer and runs a cold foot down Sehun’s bare calf. “Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” 

They fall silent, various trains of thought running through their minds. Sehun stares at the screen and listens to the steady beat of Jongin’s heart, something he dares to call his. At least for now. 

He falls asleep like that, body against Jongin’s, sharing heat and space and love. 

It feels wonderful; Sehun will miss it so, so much. 


	4. Chapter 4

Due to the time constraints, Sehun has been focusing on his design for the couple’s future home. All other projects, even Mrs. Kim’s boutique, have been placed aside until he’s finished. 

He puts all his love for Jongin into his work. If Jongin is to spend his future there, then he should have the best possible home Sehun can design, right? If the house itself is the last gift that Sehun will be able to give him, then it should be a place that contains a piece of Sehun’s love. 

Despite losing the man he loves to his sister, Sehun doesn’t hate being in charge of this project. He’s doing it for Jongin, after all. 

Each room is inspired by the memories they share, from the layout of the master bedroom (based off the hotel room in MIlan) to the rooftop garden (a carbon copy of where they took their first photo together). He even includes paint swatches as suggestions for the walls, combinations of colours that he knows from experience – common combos that he sees the model wear often – Jongin likes.

He cries when he works on the nursery, a room for a child they will never have together, and not due to the lack of love. The tears dry by the time he moves on to the playroom, but the ache in his heart remains. He pushes on, however, determined to focus on the bigger picture and accomplish his goal.

After months of work, Sehun presents the finished project to Saehi as an early wedding present. He goes to her place on a Friday night and it’s Jongin who opens the door, expression brightening when he sees Sehun on the other side. 

“Hey you,” Sehun whispers. Jongin reaches out for him and Sehun does the same, linking their fingers together. View of the touch is blocked by the door and Jongin’s body, so he holds on for a few extra seconds before letting go. Jongin’s face falls at the loss, but he knows that this is how he has to be.

_Love you_ , Jongin mouths. Sehun smiles and clutches the papers closer to his chest. 

“Sis?” He calls out. “It’s me! I have something for you!”

Jongin steps aside to let Sehun in, and together they walk to where Saehi is, seated cross-legged on the rug in front of the television with several documents spread out around her. 

“Whatcha got?”

She moves some papers away and Sehun settles down in the cleared space. 

“Your future house.”

Sehun fights the urge to look up at Jongin when Saehi shrieks in excitement – he knows he won’t be able to handle seeing Jongin’s forced reaction to something he doesn’t want. The twenty-minute drive to Saehi’s place was spent mentally preparing himself, so when Sehun pulls out the polished sketches, he thinks he’s more than ready to talk about it without any feelings dragging him down.

He gets through the exterior just fine, even managing a laugh when Saehi tells him that the yard looks big enough for the three dogs Jongin apparently wants. Living room, kitchen, the den… Sehun breezes through those by reciting his own notes.

It’s only when he gets to the master bedroom does his composure start to crack. As soon as the floor plan comes into view, Sehun hears Jongin’s sharp intake of breath. Saehi, blessedly, remains oblivious. 

“That’s gorgeous!”

“Yeah,” Sehun says quietly. “Inspired by a place that means a lot to me.”

The words have barely left his mouth when Jongin abruptly leaves, the door to the bathroom slamming shut behind him. Sehun swallows past the lump in his throat and reminds himself that here, Jongin is not his, and he cannot go to him no matter how much he wants to. 

“Maybe he has a stomachache,” Saehi mumbles, too engrossed in the designs to give Jongin much thought. _I would be at his side right now if I were you_ , Sehun thinks, a bitter taste heavy on his tongue. 

“I’m, uh, I’m going to get some water.”

Sehun escapes to the kitchen, where he fills a glass with iced water and drains it in one go. He’s just about to refill the glass when a hand closes around his and Jongin’s body presses up against his back. 

“Why?”

The answer is easy. “Because I’m selfish. I want you to think of me when you fall asleep next to her, when you cuddle her, when you fu–”

Jongin shuts him up with a bruising kiss, a hand tight around his neck and fingers fisting in his hair. 

“You know you’re the only one I think of; you _know_.”

Sehun sighs against Jongin’s mouth. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to change the design?”

They can hear Saehi on the phone; Jongin gives Sehun another kiss. “No. it’s cruel of you, reminding me of that night with you, but I want the reminder.”

“Masochist,” Sehun murmurs, gently pulling the swell of Jongin’s bottom lip between his own. 

“When it comes to you, yeah.”

A final kiss, then they pull away. Jongin fixes Sehun’s hair for him and wipes the shine off his lips before leaving, looking back over his shoulder with a soft smile that Sehun files away into the depths of his heart. 

He waits for a few more seconds before returning.

They pick up where they left off. 

Saehi tears up at the nursery and Sehun can feel Jongin’s eyes burning a hole through the back of his skull the entire time he holds his sister. 

“You’ll be the best uncle,” Saehi sniffs, wiping her nose on the sleeve of Sehun’s shirt. “Scratch that, you’ll be the best godfather.”

“You want me to be your kids’ godfather?”

He gets a smack to the thigh for that. 

“Of _course_ , you idiot. You’re my brother.” She swipes the tears off her cheeks. “And you’re Jongin’s best friend. Of course you’ll be our children’s godfather. Right, honey?”

Jongin clears his throat and Sehun sees the frustration in his eyes. “Yeah, definitely. Kids will love him.”

Okay, he really needs to finish this damned presentation before he loses it and says something he’ll regret. 

“Saehi, I have a meeting to get to, so do you mind if we just finish up here? I’ll leave you and Jongin with the designs and you can let me know if you want anything changed.”

She accepts his lie easily, shrugging off Sehun’s arm to let him reach over for the papers. Sehun exhales – the last thing he needs to go over is the rooftop garden.

“You’re not really a sun person,” Sehun explains, “so I assumed you wouldn’t mind what I did with this open space. I decided on the garden because Jongin loves nature, and with living in the city, it’s hard to feel connected to nature sometimes. It’ll take quite a bit of effort to tend to the garden, but I know a couple of good gardeners and landscapers that I can introduce to you.”

Saehi opens her mouth to say something, but Jongin beats her to it. 

“I…I love this, Sehun. Thank you so much.”

Jongin’s gaze is unreadable, but it has Sehun’s pulse speeding up all the same. 

“You’re welcome.”

  
Just two days later, Sehun gets a text from Saehi saying that the couple has decided to proceed with Sehun’s designs. Nothing is to be changed – they love it the way it is. Sehun can’t quite put his finger on how that makes him feel. 

“Sehun, am I your friend?”

Taken aback, Sehun looks up and nearly bites his tongue off in shock when he sees Seulgi’s face inches away from his own. He holds up a defensive hand, index and middle fingers resting against her forehead. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you regard me as a friend,” she reiterates, not budging despite the slight pressure from Sehun’s fingers. 

“Of course.”

She huffs. “Then why don’t you talk to me?”

Sehun doesn’t understand. “I…am talking to you. I’m talking to you right…” He trails off; if looks could kill, Sehun would have disintegrated into a small pile of ashes right then and there.

“You don’t talk to me when it matters,” she points out. 

“Seulgi, I really don’t under–” The rest of the sentence dies on his tongue when she points at a photo frame that’s sitting on his desk. The photo itself is of him and Jongin, the one with them up on the rooftop, the one that they’d both posted to Instagram, the one that arguably started it all. 

Sehun lets his hand drop away. 

“It isn’t something I want to talk about,” he says dully. “To anyone.”

She sighs, reclaiming her seat from across Sehun. 

“You can’t keep it all bottled up, Sehun. It's going to eat you up from the inside. Have you spoken to _anyone_ about this?”

“No. No one knows, apart from you. Don’t know how you guessed it, by the way.”

A casual flip of her hair, “Woman’s intuition, I suppose. So you’ve been dealing with this by yourself?”

“We’ve been dealing with it together,” he says, perhaps a little too defensively. She softens instantly.

“Oh honey, it’s not the same. How is he going to comfort you if he’s just as affected by this as you are?”

Sehun meets Seulgi’s gaze, imploring and patient and good. God, she’s such a good friend. His eyes suddenly feel a little hot and he tries to blink it away, only to feel something wet roll down his cheek. 

She's by his side in seconds, a cool hand against his cheek to catch the tears.

“They made him do it,” Sehun blubbers, “as part of a business deal. They took him away from me for _money_. The worst part? Saehi seems to be genuinely happy about it all.”

Amidst gentle shushes, Seulgi says, “Did they know? About the two of you?”

That question has Sehun pressing on the corners of his eyes to stem the flow. “No. We wanted to keep it quiet until we felt ready. Jongin blames himself you know, for wanting to keep his sexuality private, for –” He bites of a groan and reaches for the stress ball he has started to bring around with him. 

“You love him.” It's not a question. 

“Yeah.”

“God, I'm so sorry,” she groans, nudging Sehun over in his seat with her hip. It’s a tight fit, but she manages to squeeze in next to Sehun. Sehun’s so surprised he even stops crying.

There, on his office chair, they stay squished together in an uncomfortable hug for minutes. Seulgi holds him until his breathing evens out and the tear tracks on his face dry up. 

“I would tell you that everything’s going to turn out alright, but I’m not a liar.” 

“I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”

She kisses him on the temple. “Stay strong. If you need anything, I’m here, okay?”

He closes his eyes and nods. 

  
As the date of the wedding draws near, Sehun busies himself with overseeing the construction of the house while Jongin deals with an increasingly stressed Saehi. It gets harder and harder to find time to meet, a fact that upsets them greatly. 

After two weeks of not being able to lay eyes on each other, Jongin finally manages to make his way home. 

Sehun is elbows deep in his storeroom – the room (and his hair) looks like a storm blew through. 

“Uh, babe? What are you looking for?”

“Honestly?” Sehun grunts, “I have no fucking clue. Saehi’s looking for something that she wants to include in the wedding and she insists that _I_ have it.”

He's just about to reach for another box when Jongin grabs his wrist. “Forget about it. If you've looked through these many boxes and still found nothing, then it's probably not here.”

“But –”

“I haven't seen you in two weeks. Sixteen days, to be exact. Can I please kiss you?”

Sehun would not easily admit to a weakness, but the man right next to him is his biggest one. He lets Jongin lead him out of the storeroom without another word, lets Jongin pull him close, lets Jongin cradle his head and slot their lips together. 

“I don't know how I was able to leave the city for weeks on end before. Now, I'm away from you for a day and I feel like someone's stolen my limb.”

Sehun stares, boggled, then lets out the most unattractive snort. 

“That's so cheesy, please never say that again.”

Grinning, Jongin flops onto the couch and pulls Sehun down with him. “No. I’m gonna be as cheesy as I can while I still can.” Sehun gives him a wet kiss on the cheek as a reward for defying his wishes. 

With only a few hours together until Jongin is due to return to his fiancée, they spend their time curled up on the couch with a pint of mint chip shared between them. They pretend to watch a movie, too engrossed in the other to pay much attention to whatever is happening on screen. 

It’s lovely, but as the seconds go by, Sehun knows that he needs to get it over and done with. So while the movie’s heroine runs away from a bunch of bad guys, Sehun plucks the spoon from Jongin’s fingers and drops it back into the pint. 

“I have something to say, but I need you to promise that you won’t get upset.”

“Have I ever gotten upset at you?”

Sehun rolls his eyes, fond. “Yes, actually, about the bedroom? But I’m referring to the general situation that I’m about to bring up.”

“Okay, you can’t blame me for getting upset at that.” He opens his mouth and waits for Sehun to spoon feed him some ice cream. “But yes, I promise I won’t get upset.”

There’s really no way to sugarcoat things, nor is there a need to do so at this point. Sehun sets the ice cream aside and burrows into Jongin’s warmth.

“You’re getting married in six weeks.”

Jongin’s grip around his shoulder tightens, but he stays silent.

“The day of the wedding, Jongin, needs to be the day we end this.”

The words come out a lot easier than Sehun had expected. It doesn't mean that they hurt any less, though. Just the idea of breaking up, of officially putting an end to everything that they share, to the love they have for each other, eats him up from the inside. 

But it needs to be done. 

Jongin’s reaction is something he can’t quite predict, so it comes as a huge relief when Jongin kisses him on the temple and says, “I understand.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I like it, but I understand. You’re you – a sweetheart. You put people’s joy and needs before yours, and in this case, you’re putting your sister before you.”

With a blanket wound around their legs, Sehun struggles to move. But he eventually untangles himself from the mess enough to slide onto Jongin’s lap. This way, he can look right into Jongin’s eyes when he says, “Don’t think that you’re not important, okay? Don’t think I don’t prioritise you. I just…I don’t think I can live with myself if I did that to my sister. It’s bad enough that we’re still together, but once you’re legally married to her? I can’t.”

“You know,” Jongin says bitterly, “we’re not even doing anything wrong. Our relationship came first; people just didn’t know about it.”

Sehun rests his forehead against Jongin’s and breathes in the scent of the man. Absently, he thinks he might go and pick up a bottle of Jongin’s cologne so that he can keep the scent of him fresh in his mind when he can no longer do this.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. If all we’ve got is six weeks, let’s not spend that time feeling sorry.”

A turn of his head and Sehun’s got his face tucked into the crook of Jongin’s neck, feeling the flutter of his pulse against his cheek. 

“You’ll always have my heart.”

Sehun can feel the words vibrate in Jongin’s throat as he says them. He knows they’re true.

  
“I told Saehi that I don’t want a bachelor’s party and that you offered to take me out to dinner instead. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

A pause, then: “I love you.”

_I love you, I'll miss you, I don’t want to lose you._

“I love you too.”

_Please_.

  
“This looks beautiful.”

Sehun squints over at his mother. Sunlight’s hitting him right in the face and he can barely make out her silhouette. “Thanks, Mom. Hope she likes it.”

The house is, for the most part, complete. There’s a whole bunch of interior designing that needs to happen, but it’ll be ready for the newlyweds when they return from their month-long honeymoon. 

He walks into the house and goes through each floor, making sure that his vision has been transformed into reality. His mother had asked to see the property, going on about how she needs to see the space in order to know what housewarming gift to purchase, and so he’d brought her along.

“Oh, she loves it. She doesn’t stop talking about it, you know, going on about her favourite little brother is the mind behind her future home.”

“I’m her only brother!”

He gets a fond pinch to the cheek and Sehun bats his mother’s hand away with a laugh. 

“It’s good to see a smile on that handsome face,” she says, looping her arm through the crook of Sehun’s elbow as they head up the stairs. 

“What do you mean?”

She clicks her tongue. “I’m your mother, I notice things.”

_Not when it mattered most_ , he thinks. But he bites his tongue and lets her continue.

“You’ve been…sad, recently. More withdrawn.”

“It’s just stress, Mom. I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe him, not with the raised eyebrow and pursed lips. “You’re heartbroken, my dear.”

Sehun pauses. “What?”

“It’s in your eyes.”

He sighs, knowing that denying it is pointless. “It is what it is. Some things just turn out in a way you never expected or wanted.”

She stops him, both hands reaching up to cup his face. “This person means a lot to you?”

_If only you knew._

“Then they will remain in your life. People like these can never leave, even if love is lost, because –”

“There’s no love lost, Mom. We just can’t be together.”

He pulls away from her touch and starts up the stairs once more, up towards the rooftop garden. 

  
His reflection stares back at him and Sehun is pleased to see that the sheer devastation he feels does not show on his face. He buttons up his shirt – the same one he wore to the first day of MFW –, leans in closer to the mirror to fix his hair, and gives himself a wry smile before turning around. 

Time to leave. 

Jongin had asked to meet at a particular address that looked oddly familiar to Sehun. It’s only when he pulls up to the curb does he realise where he is. 

It’s empty inside; the house is still furnished and relatively clean, but it’s evident that no one is currently occupying the space. There are no personal belongings, the bare walls boasting outlines of photo frames that once hung there. 

Sehun makes his way upstairs. 

Up on the roof, Sehun is pleased to see that the plants are thriving, if a little in need of a trim. Standing close to the edge, looking out at the road and bathed in the soft glow of the rising moon, is Jongin. 

“Hi.”

Jongin turns and Sehun’s heart trips over itself at the look on the man’s face. If Sehun touched him, would he break? Would he shatter like glass and leave nothing but emptiness behind? With a pang, Sehun thinks he might.

“Hey,” Jongin finally says. He points to the middle of the garden. “Made dinner.”

There’s indeed food spread out on a picnic blanket there, the space decorated with fake candles, but Sehun has no appetite. 

“Jongin…”

“I love you, you know that right?”

Sehun hates this, hates that it’s come to this. 

“Yeah, Jongin. Of course I know.” He steps closer, close enough to take Jongin’s hand in his. 

Jongin exhales. “Okay.” 

Dinner is a painful affair, conversation stilted as both try far too hard to lighten the atmosphere when they know just how upset the other is. Sehun tries to eat as much as possible, not wanting Jongin’s hard work to go to waste, but he barely manages half his portion. Jongin himself doesn’t do much better.

Once the leftovers are packed away, they settle down on the edge of the roof like they did the first time they were up here. 

“How did you manage this?” Sehun gestures around them. “Is this not someone’s house?”

“Yeah.” Jongin turns to him, mouth pulled up into a small smile. “Mine. I bought it.”

Sehun’s eyes grow to the size of saucers. “What?”

“For the memories. You know, that night we took that photo, I went home and I looked at it for a long time. I looked at it and I just knew that you were the one I was going to fall in love with. I never planned it; it just happened.”

He lifts a hip, hand venturing into his pocket. Sehun’s still too caught up in processing the fact that Jongin _bought this house_ to pay much attention.

“Remember that tree we planted for our first year anniversary? You were on your knees, shovelling soil with one hand while you had the little seedling in the other, and just like with the picture, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” He holds out his hand and oh, there’s a small velvet box resting on his palm.

Sehun screws his eyes shut – no, this cannot be happening. 

“I bought this the very next day.”

The box opens and nestled inside is a beautifully simple platinum band. There’s a thin line of diamonds going around the middle, just enough for a sparkle but not enough to suggest a romantic connotation behind the ring. 

“I was waiting for the perfect time, but I guess that’s out of the question now.” He takes the ring out of the box and holds it up to the sky. “But I’m still going to ask.”

Sehun’s mouth is desert dry.

“I can’t give you a wedding, but I can at least give you a proposal.” Jongin turns to him. “Sehun? Will you marry me?”

It feels like he can’t breathe. He wants to scream and laugh and cry at the same time and it’s just so overwhelming. Jongin, bless his heart, waits patiently for an answer of some sort, his hand warm and grounding around Sehun’s own, and it’s that sensation that Sehun uses to ground himself.

“Yes,” he gasps out. “Yes, of course, always.”

“Yeah? That makes me so happy to hear.” He thumbs at Sehun’s cheek, ever gentle. “Don’t cry,” Jongin murmurs, leaning in to kiss the saltiness away. “C’mon, let me put this ring on you.”

It slides onto the ring finger of his right hand. A perfect fit. 

“Beautiful.” Jongin presses his lips to the ring, eyes fluttering shut. Sehun sees tears clinging to his lashes and it absolutely breaks his heart. 

They sit up there for a little while longer, fingers laced as they stare up at the stars. But time isn’t on their side, and it’s getting late. They have less than twelve hours together before they’re due at the wedding venue. 

“Shall we go home?”

Sehun squeezes Jongin’s hand. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

  
They take a shower together, standing under the spray of water as they soap up and rinse off in silence. After, clad in those fluffy robes and water still dripping off the tips of their hair, they fall into bed. 

The lights are set low, muted sounds from the thrumming city outside and each other’s breathing the only things breaking the silence. Sehun settles down onto his side and Jongin mirrors him with a hand warm over Sehun’s right, staring at the line of diamonds glinting in the dim light. 

“Hey, at least you’ll be family.”

Jongin snorts. “Yeah, could’ve been family another way.”

Sehun traces the curve of Jongin’s mouth with a finger. “In another life, things will work out the way we want them to. In another life, tomorrow would be our own wedding. I’m happy for them, the us that gets a happy ending.”

“I’m jealous,” Jongin says bluntly. “I want to be in that lifetime.”

Sehun pinches Jongin’s nose. “Let’s not make our last night sadder than it already is, hm?”

Said nose scrunches up in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. How about I give you a kiss instead?”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s acceptable.”

The model rolls over onto him, a welcome weight, arms on either side of Sehun’s head making him feel safe and secure and the centre of Jongin’s universe. A little shimmy has his robe falling open.

A sweet kiss to his forehead, nose, each eyelid. Jongin shrugs off his own robe and Sehun takes the opportunity to run his hands along Jongin’s waist, relishing in the warmth of his skin and the solidness of his body. Then he gets a kiss to the lips, the corner of his mouth, curve of his neck. 

“I’m going to miss being able to do this,” Jongin sighs, breath washing warm over Sehun’s skin as he moves down Sehun’s body.

“Do what?”

“Kiss you, for one. God, I love kissing you.” Just to prove his point, Jongin plants a kiss right over Sehun’s heart. “I’m also going to miss touching you in all the places that make you blush, that make you spread your legs for me.” Eyes flickering up to Sehun’s face, he dips a little lower and pulls a nipple into his mouth. 

Sure enough, Sehun arches up into that wetness and feels his legs fall open, letting Jongin settle into the cradle of his hips. 

“I’m just easy for you,” Sehun says, a little breathlessly. Jongin laughs against his skin. 

He spends an inordinate amount of time just peppering Sehun’s chest with kisses, sucking faint bruises into the flesh and plucking at perky nipples with his teeth.

“I’m gonna fall asleep at this rate,” Sehun complains. 

Jongin laves his tongue over a swollen bud. “Uh huh, sure. So what’s with that hardness I feel against my stomach?”

“It’s a manifestation of my impatience,” Sehun counters. He smacks the back of Jongin’s thigh with his foot, demanding. 

With a crook of his eyebrow, Jongin sits back on his haunches – Sehun eyes the streaks of precome left by his erection on Jongin’s skin, feeling something akin to possessiveness flare up inside him – and pushes Sehun’s knees up to his chest. 

“You’re really not gonna let me have my way with you?”

“You can have your way with me once you’re inside me,” Sehun says pointedly, toes wriggling. 

Jongin simply licks his lips and leans down until his mouth is right by Sehun’s winking hole. “And we’ll get there,” he promises. He smooths a thumb over the puckered skin. “Just wanna eat you out one last time if that’s okay with you.”

Colour riding high on his cheeks, Sehun nods. 

Pleased, Jongin dives in, wetting the skin around Sehun’s hole before dragging the tip of his tongue over the ring of muscle, pulling back just in time to see it flutter. He laps at it, makes out with it, sucks at it until Sehun’s a moaning mess and loose enough for Jongin’s tongue to slip in. At the first catch of his tongue along Sehun’s rim, Sehun comes with a sob, hand shooting down to press Jongin’s face to his hole despite the looming threat of overstimulation. 

Jongin obeys, licking Sehun through the aftershocks, hands squeezing at supple cheeks like dough. When Sehun finally stops trembling, Jongin peels his face away and rubs fondly at Sehun’s wet hole. The tip of his finger dips in and he doesn’t miss how Sehun’s toes curl.

“Inside?” Sehun asks hopefully. He lets go of his knees, legs falling back onto the bed and showing Jongin just how messy his stomach is, streaked with come. His softening cock lies along the seam of his thigh, flushed and happy. 

“But that’ll mean the night will be over too soon,” Jongin points out. “I don’t want it to end.”

Sehun swallows, feeling the words wrap tight around his gut. He doesn’t want it to end either. 

“Okay.” He goes pliant, the inside of his foot running up the side of Jongin’s thigh. 

“Okay?”

When Sehun nods, Jongin smiles and wriggles back down, heedless of his own needs. He takes the head of Sehun’s cock into his mouth and rubs soothing circles into Sehun’s skin when he jerks at the sensitivity. Jongin doesn’t suck, just keeps it warm in his mouth while he pushes a finger into Sehun, nice and slow. 

He’s lax enough for a finger, rim still damp with Jongin’s spit. 

Jongin stays there for a while, humming contentedly around his mouthful as he brushes over Sehun’s prostate ever so often. Sehun hardens gradually, gripping onto a handful of Jongin’s hair for purchase when he begins to feed more of his cock into that welcoming mouth. 

When Jongin reaches out a hand for lube, Sehun gives it to him without a single word, gasping for air when Jongin swallows him down. Heedless of how sore his jaw is starting to feel, Jongin slicks his fingers up and presses two inside, curling them just right, thumb rubbing at where they’re joined. 

Sehun comes for the second time like that, head thrown back and abs taut, come sliding down Jongin’s throat. He chokes out Jongin’s name when Jongin inches back up his cock, popping off the head with a gentle lick to the slit. 

“Jongin,” Sehun slurs, sounding absolutely sex-drenched, “ _please_ fuck –” He breaks off into a moan, back arching when Jongin squeezes a third finger in. 

“Yeah, baby.” A few more pumps of his fingers and Jongin pulls them out, obsessed with how Sehun’s puffy hole winks back at him. “I’ll do just that.”

He’s reaching for a condom when Sehun stops him. 

“No. Let me feel you tonight.” _Let me feel you for the first time and the last time._

The packet falls back inside the drawer. 

Jongin lubes himself up, rubbing the slick head of his cock against Sehun’s stretched hole until Sehun growls and whacks the back of his thigh with a foot. He pushes, groaning when the ring of muscle gives way, sinking in inch by inch until his balls are snug against the curve of Sehun’s bottom. 

Sehun’s gazing up at him, something soft and vulnerable and loving in those chocolate irises. God, Jongin’s going to miss him so, so much. 

One rock of his hips and Sehun sighs, legs wrapping around his waist as he reaches up for him. Jongin goes, for he will always go wherever Sehun wants him to, and captures those baby-pink lips in a kiss. 

“I’m always going to love you,” Jongin tells him between kisses, “a year from now, ten years from now, twenty. You will always, always have a piece of me.”

Sehun clutches onto strong shoulders and forces Jongin to look him in the eyes.

“You, Kim Jongin, are the love of my life. I may choose to love others in the future, but no one – no one, you hear me? – no one will have my heart the way you do.”

Something akin to relief floods through Jongin’s face and Sehun realises with a stabbing jolt that Jongin was scared he would think otherwise. He feels tears spring up, hot and sudden.

“Please believe me.”

“Oh, baby. I believe you. I’m just – _oof_.”

Sehun rolls them over, hands on Jongin’s chest as he readjusts himself on Jongin’s cock. He glares down at the model, as if daring him to continue his sentence. 

With a kiss to the inside of Sehun’s wrist, Jongin does. 

“I’m just torn between being selfish and wanting what’s best for you. You’re still young, love. While I would be forever honoured to be the only person you love, you shouldn’t give up a happy future because of me.”

“Don’t care,” Sehun replies stubbornly. He grinds down on Jongin’s cock and revels in the way Jongin’s lips part, fingers digging into his hips. “You’re it for me.”

Jongin sighs, but he doesn’t sound very upset. 

In fact, he tightens his grip on Sehun and pulls him down onto his cock while he fucks up, falling easily into a rhythm that has air punching out of Sehun’s lungs with every thrust. He pulls two of Sehun’s fingers into his mouth and sucks, watching the instant dilation of pupils as he scrapes his teeth over the pads.

“Jongin,” comes out of Sehun’s mouth as a prayer. “Jongin,” is a promise, “Jongin” is an ode to the time they have spent together, “Jongin” is an apology to the future they will never have. 

Jongin comes with a cry of Sehun’s name, the latter following soon after. 

“Jongin,” marks the beginning and the end of, “Sehun.”

  
Sehun wakes to warmth plastered down his back and the most pleasant ache down south. From what he can see through the gap between the curtains, the weather is gorgeous. It seems that Saehi will have the wedding of her dreams, after all. 

He can tell that Jongin is already awake from the way he’s held to the man’s chest. 

“How much time do we have?”

“A little over an hour before we have to leave.” Jongin’s hold around him tightens. “Want some waffles?”

“Yeah.” Sehun closes his eyes. “Waffles sound good.”

An hour later, as they prepare to leave the house, Sehun stores the leftovers in the freezer. 

  
“Do you, uh, want your things back?”

Jongin stares out the window as they drive towards the venue. “No. Please keep them. They belong with you.”

Sehun’s knuckles are white around the wheel. 

  
Standing tall, Sehun looks through the mirror as his mother smoothes out imaginary wrinkles from his suit jacket. He looks as good as he ever will, hair in a perfect sweep and make-up highlighting his best features. As he turns, his ring catches the light and sparkles.

“Soon you’ll be next,” he hears her say. “You’ll look so handsome at your wedding, oh I can’t wait.”

Today is supposed to be a joyous occasion; not wanting to dampen her mood, Sehun decides to keep his mouth shut. But as soon as she steps away, Sehun finds an excuse to leave. 

“I’m gonna go check on the groom.”

He finds Jongin inside the groom’s preparation room along with one of his sisters, the ‘best woman’ to his ‘man of honour’. Jongin’s seated in front of a huge vanity mirror and fiddling with something in his hands while she plucks at a lock of his hair. 

“Hi. Uh, my mother sent me to check on him?”

Jongin’s sister smiles and wipes hair wax off her fingers. “Of course! I guess we’ll swap, then? I’ll go check on the lovely bride.”

She breezes out of the room in a swirl of lilac chiffon. Once the door swings shut, Sehun sees Jongin’s shoulders sag. The sight breaks his heart. He walks over to Jongin’s side and crouches down by the chair, resting a hand on Jongin’s thigh, palm up, until Jongin sets his hand in his.

“You okay?”

“Not very,” Jongin sighs. “You?”

“As good as you’d expect.”

Sehun brings their joined hands up to his lips. At the contact, Jongin exhales shakily. 

“Tell me you love me? I need to hear it one more time.”

“I love you, Jongin. I love you so very much.”

Jongin nods, jaw clenched, and stares at his reflection in the mirror. 

“You have no idea just how much I love you. So I will do this in honour of you." He looks down at Sehun. “One more kiss for the road?”

And so Sehun lets Jongin pull him up to mouth level, hands strong against the sides of his face, lips perfect against his own. It strikes him that this is likely the last time he’ll ever get to be with Jongin this way, and the thought of it hurts so much that he surges back in for more as soon as they part. 

It goes on like this for minutes, kisses one after another, until their eyes are wet and lips are plum-bruised. 

Sehun’s phone buzzes in his pocket. The wedding is about to begin.

“I have to –” Jongin pulls him back in for another kiss. “Jongin –”

“Please don’t go,” Jongin mumbles against his lips, and he sounds like he’s close to full-on sobbing. “Please stay with me.” 

Sehun tightens his grip around Jongin’s neck. “Jongin,” he tries, but this time, he’s the one leaning in. 

When Sehun’s phone buzzes again, he blinks back his tears and gently holds Jongin away. 

Jongin’s cheeks are wet and there's a desperation in his eyes that Sehun wants to banish. He touches the swell of Jongin’s lip with his thumb and brushes the tears away with his knuckles before reaching for several tissues. 

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs. “The photos won’t look good with your eyes all swollen.”

He fixes Jongin up to the best of his ability, dabbing at his tears and touching up his foundation until his bloodshot eyes are the only sign of his sadness. 

“I have to go.” It’s hard to hide the break in his voice, so he doesn’t. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Jongin nods, clearly fighting to keep his emotions in check. 

“Okay.”

He lets go, and Sehun rises to his feet. 

“I love you.”

Jongin smiles at him, small and sad and still full of love. “And I, you. Always.”

  
The wedding is an outdoor ceremony, with plenty of trees, lush grass and flowers. Sehun thinks he would have gone with a beach wedding instead, to feel soft sand between his toes.

Jongin’s sister is a bundle of excitement next to him, her arm threaded through his, fresh flowers grasped in her hand. He counts to three, and then they’re walking down the aisle as music plays softly in the background. Sehun walks slowly, acting as her support so that she doesn’t accidentally step on the hem of her dress and roll an ankle. 

Up ahead of them are Jongin’s niece and nephew, each with a basket of flower petals in their hands. Everyone’s cooing over them, giving Sehun a brief opportunity to cast his gaze up front where Jongin is standing.

He looks so handsome in that suit, almost regal in the way he holds himself. With the sunlight, Sehun can’t make out Jongin’s features, but he can feel the heat of his gaze on him. 

After what feels like a lifetime, Sehun makes it to the front. He leads Jongin’s sister to her spot before he heads to his, resolutely looking out towards the crowd instead of where his heart wants. 

The music changes.

Sehun sees his father appear, arm outstretched. Saehi accepts it, the diamonds in her hairpieces shimmering in the light. She’s gorgeous, the fabric of her dress fitting so perfectly around her frame, coral lips curved up into a bright smile. 

When she reaches him, Sehun holds out his hand. 

“You look beautiful,” he says, and means it. “Love you, Sis.”

She swats at him, eyes bright. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” With a manicured hand, she smooths down the lapel of his suit and pats his cheek. “Love you too.”

Sehun bends to kiss her cheek; in the front row, his mother bursts into tears. 

He helps her to her spot, making sure that her dress settles around her feet the way she wants it to. She squeezes his hand and tugs him close until Sehun is standing mere inches behind her. Then, before he knows it, the ceremony begins. 

He tunes out the minister, tunes out Saehi’s vows, tunes out Jongin’s vows. After all, he doesn’t want to listen to Jongin profess his non-existent love for his sister. 

But his ears pick up on a poignant pause. 

Sehun can’t help it; he glances over at Jongin, and their eyes lock.

“And I promise to love you in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live.”

Sehun’s heart sticks in his throat, yearning. As the pair exchange rings, he’s suddenly painfully aware of his own ring snug around his finger. 

“...and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Applause explodes all around; Sehun joins in, the taste of ash heavy on his tongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) The boys didn't try to fight the decision because: Sehun grew up in an environment where he learned it was best to just do what was asked of you. He also doesn't like disappointing his parents, and he has grown up sacrificing many of his personal wants/desires to be the son he knows his parents would want. As for Jongin, he grew up without his father in the picture, and he's had to become the man of the family in more ways than one. His mother is dear to him, and he would never want to upset him. He takes the arranged marriage as a responsibility he needs to carry out for the good of his mother. 
> 
> 2) Not mentioned, but throughout the fic, Jongin has stopped smoking! He first stops smoking around Sehun before ultimately quitting entirely.
> 
> 3) For the purposes of this fic, it is safe to assume that Jongin/Sehun no longer continue seeing each other romantically after the wedding. It is Sehun's wish, and Jongin intends to keep his word.


End file.
